I should know better.
Yes, I went to the supermarket on a Bank Holiday. It was only meant to be a quick trip to pick up a couple of essentials but honestly…
I navigated through the hoards of screaming kids – ‘just play there while we shop’, circled round the packs of savage pensioners hunting down bargain offers and infiltrated the groups of people who haven’t seen each other for AGES and are now standing in front of the five things on my list catching up with an eon of gossip. Then comes the queue to pay. So I queued. And queued. Sorry about the wait said a passing shiny shirted Ass. Mgr. – it’s a Bank Holiday yu’know.
The least I deserved was some flowers!
At least they seemed to have heard my complaints about the general populace sneezing all over the unwrapped bread and my favourite walnut loaf is now sold in bags so I can buy it again. Of course it has probably been thoroughly dribbled on in the bakery but I don’t see that so I don’t care.
At least that was lunch sorted out – walnut bread and Cornish brie – lovely.
And true to form I went in with a list of five things – came out with eleven of which only three were on the list.