I’m not a huge fan of shopping. Never have been never will be.
And shopping for specifics in a massive supermarket is a nightmare.
You have a list of six random items – things like kidney beans, a birthday card, bin bags and frozen peas, which are spread across 50 aisles and two floors.
Dawdling trolley pushers take up all the room pushing their load about in a haphazard manner suddenly veering off with no indication the moment they spot something on offer.
Having located the half a dozen items you need, plus a couple of extra things you neither wanted nor require, you reach the checkout.
Wisely steering clear of the ones with trolleys stacked higher than Everest, you head for the self-service checkout.
Waiting in the queue you find yourself stuck behind the only person who has never used this checkout before.
You know the one. He takes an age to find the barcode on a loaf of bread, can’t work out how to put vegetables through and has brought a few beers, for which he needs proof of age despite being in his mid 60s, so he has to wait for the staff member to swipe her magic card to get the whole tedious process back in motion.
At this point I usually consider switching lanes but never do. Then I watch the person who arrives next in the neighbouring queue stream through in no time.
“That could have been me” you mutter to yourself as you finally start swiping your items. Within minutes you’re nearly done but then the machine doesn’t recognise that you’ve ‘bagged the item’ even though you can see it in the carrier bag just inches away from your face.
Once out the door you have to show a turn of speed to skilfully avoid the people trying to sell you breakdown cover and head for the safety of the car.
Only to discover you’ve been hit by ‘that driver’ and there’s a dent in your bodywork.
Never again, you vow as you head for the exit, until you next need some kidney beans on a Sunday.
Alex James writes a weekly blog published every Monday on www.newportadvertiser.com.
View his latest blog here