Making A Dent In My Pension...

Oh the dubious pleasures of grocery shopping with Himself...

He drops me as close to the door as possible...mind you, I tend to pile on the agony of having to walk further than five yards 'cos he's hopeless at parking, so goes right to the very end of the car-park where no-one ever leaves their car...then it's feckin miles to trudge back to the main entrance.

I never entirely trust a trolley that's just sort of standing there...probably has a wobbly wheel and the last person to use it has stalked off in a huff and not bothered about collecting their euro...so I ferret about in the depths of pockets for my coin and take a trolley that's been firmly put back in its proper place...

Toss a half-eaten bread roll and someone else's list into the next trolley waiting in the queue...turn round to find a smallish woman glaring at me...so I beam at her and she looks alarmed and picks up a basket instead.

Loads of offers today...two cartons of those little oranges that I call Satsuma's, except I don't think they are actually...two for € 1...enormous Banana's...six of those and anything else on that stand also € 1...so I sorted through the 'nanas and found some small ones and picked a Pineapple for my 'any other item'.

By the time I'd reached the Cabbages I was wondering where Himself had got to...

He didn't appear until I was debating the bread...sliced Granary...easy for toast...or Soda bread which I love and Himself hates.

He was pushing a trolley laden with dog biscuits and a tin of Golden Syrup...for his morning porridge. And a bin bag. What do you have in the bin bag? Asif asked if I'd like Cabbage leaves for the Donkeys...O.K. How does Asif know we have donkeys? Haven't a clue, said Himself...

That really nice lady was listening to all this...she is a woman of size and she has a small husband called John, who talks to all the girls doing the shelf-filling...think it's the only time he gets a word in actually. 'Never mind how he knows' she said...take them and be thankful'...so I said we were indeed thankful. I had to tell her 'cos Himself didn't hear what she said...with him being deaf in one ear and not likely to admit it anytime soon.

She said Toodle-Pip and sailed past to look at the cakes...

Himself said he'd pay for the stuff he had and would come back to give me a hand...

Which he did, once I'd reached the detergents and had almost finished.

Now I do have to say the check-out is grand...the girls and women are pleasant and friendly and don't give a hoot when I'm awful slow...if Himself isn't there then they'll either help me pack themselves or ask someone who isn't otherwise busy.

But I have to remind Himself constantly what to put together...glass jars dumped anyoldhow in the bottom of a bag with frozen peas on top is not a good idea...especially if you then add a loaf of bread...on top of the peas.

That's nagging actually...when I whip the peas out and putter about the jars banging together and suddenly find a packet of horribly expensive biscuits.

But no matter how often I might grumble, he does put everything away once we're home again...

And he's alright really.