This week... I confess to my habit of wandering around supermarkets in the evening (From Basingstoke Gazette)
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This week... I confess to my habit of wandering around supermarkets in the evening
THE arrival of our daughter has meant that I have developed a strange, but harmless, habit – one which has caused a little bit of worry for my husband.
Occasionally, most frequently after my weekly Pilates class, I will fail to return to our home for an hour or maybe even two. I do not take my phone, nor do I seem to realise how many minutes I have seemingly disappeared for.
And where am I? I am wandering around the supermarket in a blissful daze.
I love deliberately escaping there in the evening when it’s quiet and calm. I’ll start by having a look at the flowers and plants then move to the magazines.
I’ll have a leisurely scan of the gossipy headlines on the trashy ones and then see what free patterns are attached to the expensive craft ones, before I then saunter down the books aisle to have a good old browse. It’s hard to resist a new tome or two at that price.
From there, I wander around section by section, feeling no pressure to rush home – the baby’s in bed and her father’s probably on his PlayStation – and it’s one of the few occasions when I really enjoy being a consumer.
There are so few of us in there that no one rubs anyone else up the wrong way, and we all have the space in which to peruse and possibly make a purchase.
The reason why it’s possible, and so entertaining, is because of the sheer variety of items which are now within the walls of your average modern supermarket.
There are clothes, shoes, handbags, accessories, DVDs, books, home furnishings, toys and no end of other fascinating bric-a-brac in addition to the main business of the food and drink.
And I always manage to discover something new, whether it be a wee sneaky outfit for the baby, or – heavens be praised – a biscuit we haven’t tried before, or a surprisingly delightful baked good.
Finally, with a sigh, I will feel the need to head in the direction of checkout and to return home. Even though he rang my mobile and worried slightly about my whereabouts during my first few disappearances, these days the Other Half will know where I am.
That is, if he can tear his thoughts from whatever fictional football match is in progress on his game and he actually notices I haven’t returned.
He won’t complain (he wouldn’t dare), given that he knows that I am bound to have bought him a wee treat or two in addition to the groceries which will sustain his life force, ensuring he’s fit to play the computer another day.