Follow one crying eye on


Whilst in the queue waiting to be allowed into the supermarket, there was a young couple immediately in front of me. More than six feet in front of me. They were clearly making the most of this adventure and, as we neared the entrance, he dispatched her to collect a trolley. Once they were in possession of said trolley, they proceeded to muck about – she trying to climb into it, he to dismantle it to see how it could perhaps be repurposed as… I don’t know what, but he was having a lot of fun and doing no actual damage.

I found this very funny and started to examine my own trolley to see if it would come apart in the same way as theirs (it would, but I was very subtle in my investigations). As we shuffled forwards, I also joined them in trying to surreptitiously ride on the trolley (I love doing this in the store – it annoys my husband no end). Their enjoyment certainly cheered me up in an otherwise slightly unaccustomed and unnerving situation.

It was only when we neared the front of the queue that I noticed a sign which urged people to shop alone, thus making this flippant and joyful couple properly in breach of the ‘rules’. I was quite happy to ignore the fact that of course we are not supposed to ride on the trolleys or be silly in our use of them, but the ‘one person’ seemed somehow more serious. So, I had to stop smirking and mucking about myself and get down to the serious job of being a middle-aged worried shopper once again.

Being British, I didn’t say anything to them of course, and they had steadfastly avoided making eye contact with anyone else at all, being in their own playful world.

Quite envious really.

But I am not currently taking my husband supermarket shopping with me. Sadly, nor am I cavorting down the aisles on the trolley myself, for fear of crashing uncontrollably into someone or even careering to within two metres of them. I suppose that should be a consideration normally, but somehow it matters a whole lot more right now

Shopping again

I risked the supermarket again today. 

Last week we offered a ‘vulnerable’ person the option to ask us to do his shopping. He initially declined, but rang us yesterday to see if we could do a shop for him. He can get about, but should not visit big public places like supermarkets – he’s elderly and a former cancer patient.

I was more than happy to have a valid excuse to get out of the house. He dropped a typed shopping list through our door last night and we called him to verify a few things before I went out. I have never met this guy before: I was very nervous about understanding his preferences. I know almost nothing about him!

Anyhow, I managed to get everything on his list. He claims it will last him four weeks. It included some fresh fruit and veg (although the fruit will not eke out for a month, I’m sure) and some meat for roasting, lots of tins, bread, milk – but nothing I would class as a treat. It all cost £46. Six bags, very heavy. For forty-six quid!

So, there’s a lesson! 

He refused to let me drop the shopping off, preferring to come to our door and pick it up (in a reverse manoeuvre from what I have seen on other people’s doorsteps when their supermarket delivery has arrived). I suppose he wanted some sort of an excuse to put his coat on and drive a short way to get away from his own four walls.

I have been feeling I should volunteer for something now I’m pretty sure I’m clear of any travel-acquired nasties. So that’s done me some good too.



I have succeeded in doing my first proper big Sainsbury’s shop today. I walked there, for exercise, sanitised hands, trolley handle and scanner device at the outset (after queuing for maybe fifteen minutes to get in) and was gobsmacked to find shelves re-stocked and most of what I needed, or a reasonable alternative, available.

Cleverly, the scanner prevented me from taking more than two items from the loo-roll and tissue aisle (I tested it) and that pleased me somehow. I suppose I could have stolen an extra item without scanning it, but of course I did not and I’m sure others wouldn’t either!

Once again I was annoyed with myself for being smug about using the scanner and self-packing, which is what they’re advising people to do. We have been doing this for months now because it helps with orderly packing. Erm, well it does when David does it. Sadly, when he brought the car over to collect me, I had to apologise for the dreadful mixing of products and the higgledy-piggledy state of the packing. I know he hates this, but he was so pleased to see that I had succeeded in finding most of his staple foodstuffs, that I think I was forgiven this time.

Follow one crying eye on