Trolley tales

Just popping out for some milk”, I shout to husband as I run out of the front door.

Teenager’s been eating cereal as a snack again without bothering to tell me he’s finished the bottle, and I can’t bear to drink my tea black.

It takes five minutes to get to the supermarket. I rush in. Don’t need a basket just for milk. On second thoughts I’ll get a basket, just seen some lovely sunflowers which will brighten up the house. It’s been a hectic weekend. I think I deserve them.

Oh, there’s a ‘two-for-one’ offer on the clementines. They look quite juicy and it’ll get some vitamin C into the family. In the basket they go. Along with those strawberries which will do for a dessert. With some ice-cream.

Mobile phone rings. It’s husband. “While you’re out can you get me some beer? I’ve nearly run out. And it says PULL-UPS in big letters on the fridge. Do you need to buy some more? Oh, and one more thing – we’ve got no loo roll.”

Basket’s getting really heavy, and I’ve just remembered that middle son needs to take a big bottle of lemonade and some crisps to the cubs’ party tomorrow night. Damn. Need to swop basket for small trolley or my arm will drop off.

Small trolley’s now full. Nearly at the checkout. Oh, that hairclip with the diamante looks pretty. Daughter will be thrilled if I buy her that.

Phew. Got everything.

Wait impatiently in ‘basket only’ queue. Lady behind me politely points out that I have a trolley.

Move to another queue.

“I only came in for milk!” I say in exasperation to checkout lady as I part with two twenty pound notes and some. She gives me a faint smile but isn’t really listening. Probably heard that one a million times before.

Arrive home. Can’t wait for that cuppa. Husband helps me finish unpacking the bags and put everything away while daughter tries on the hairclip.

Sit down. Tea’s brewed.

“Where’s the milk?” he asks.

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