This morning I thought I would head into town to buy some very simple items. My list included: toothpaste, deodorant, ice lollies and two 5mm screws. Stupidly, I’d forgotten that the post-Christmas sales meant that everyone else within twenty miles would also be shopping, which is fine, except I instantly crumble in crowds and forget how to do the most basic tasks.
My first interaction went like this:
Me: Sorry. I parked pretty wonky. My wife normally does it. Can you get in your car ok?
Some Man: Humph, it is a bit crooked.
Me: Right. I would move it, if you weren’t such a miserable git.
The last bit is not actually true. I used the remnants of my Christmas spirit to smile politely and graciously move my car so that my new friend, who watched with disdain, didn’t have to break his spine manoeuvring himself into his driving seat.
Next, I entered through the exit to a furniture store, mostly because I wasn’t concentrating and was functioning through a caffeine low.
Large lady with moustache: Erm, that’s actually the exit.
Me: Sorry. Today’s not going so well.
Large lady with moustache: Tut.
Feeling rather cross and patronised, I went to inspect the electric drill section, only for a man in a bomber jacket to stand directly in front of me. Not slightly to the side, or leaning in to view items, but directly in front, so that I had to move back to avoid some unwanted body-to-body contact.
Seven minutes into shopping, and without having made any purchases, I wished I’d stayed at home and shopped on Amazon. I’m all for saving the high street, but shopping online is brilliant. No one criticises the way you’re sat on the sofa, tells you that you’re browsing incorrectly or blocks your screen and stands so close that you feel horribly violated. Bring on the future when I can sit and watch my shopping drone cause chaos as I park it directly on top of anyone who looks irritating.
Tomorrow I need bread. I might take a very large and ill-disciplined dog with me. Shame I’m allergic.