Woolie Mammoth

I had to stop at the supermarket on the way home as I’d run out the meagre amount of meat I’m allowed for dinner – no Friday night pizza for me, although I must admit that I came very close to diverting through Macca’s for a sneaky bite. Until recently I’d have quite easily inhaled a bagful of cheeseburgers while waiting for the traffic lights to change (assuming I hadn’t nearly starved to death waiting for my meal, but that’s another story).

There’s always an odd assortment of people in the supermarket late in the day – mums with kids at the end of their tether, single middle-aged men carrying baskets full of sadness, you know what I mean. But just about everyone shares the desire to get home as soon as humanly possible, if not before – even the lady offering free samples of some soy-based liquid wasn’t getting many takers.

Tonight’s experience reminded me why I now do my shopping online, and why my idea of hell on Earth is shopping on a Saturday morning. When they first introduced the self service checkouts most people were scared to use them, but now, there’s a queue a mile long. It’s just like waiting for an ATM – I have no patience for time-wasters who do more than one transaction, or attempt anything other than just withdraw cash.

As I waited in the queue behind a line of people being confused, people being dumb enough to scan something twice and old ladies fumbling around with cash, my boredom was eased slightly by the couple in front of me who were having an argument – well, she was pointing out how it was his fault that he was an only child and she wasn’t, and how dare his opinions reflect that. And she had bright purple stockings on. Poor guy.

So here comes the weekend. I’ve had my 100g of lean protein, two cups of tomato soup and serving of diet jelly for dinner – damn, I’m still hungry. Even TV is plotting against me tonight – first they made multi-tiered pies on the Great British Bakeoff (okay, what was I expecting), and now Stewart Lee is talking about crisps.

Maybe I’ll distract myself by browsing the new Australian BBC Shop

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About the author

Martin

Martin was born in England but now lives in Perth, Western Australia. He has a passion for breakfast, coffee, hot curries & fast food, and is a cat & Dalek person.

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