I’m not a fan of supermarket shopping and I should have been suspicious when The Teenager jumped at the chance to accompany me the other day.
I haven’t given up online shopping, but my mum mentioned she had seen some artificial grass in a supermarket nearby and it was selling out fast.
It was one of those cut-price supermarkets – no frills, no helpful staff, prison-style strip lighting and pushy customers shoving their trolleys into any legs that had the audacity to get in their way of grabbing the last bottle of Lambrusco or tin of discounted baked beans.
‘Muuuuuuuuuuuuum, can I have a bag of donuts?’
One?’ (sad face)
‘Just let me find the blinking grass and we’re out of here. What? Oh, alright then. ONE.’
I found the grass and tried to juggle four rolls of the stuff in my arms when The Teenager came back with a basket, one donut lying forlornly in the middle.
‘Why do you need a basket for your donut?’
‘Er. Um. Pepsi’s cheap, only 25 pence a can and I never have pop and everyone else in school has pop in the house and it’s not fair that everyone else in school gets to have pop and I don’t and I really think it’s so cheap that it would be really nice if for once I could have some pop in the house so I’m just like all my friends and won’t feel so different from everyone else. See?’
‘Yeah. Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssssse? Just say ‘stop’ at the number of cans I can have? Tennineeightsevensixfivefourthree…’
‘THREE. You can have three. One a day for the next three days as a treat. Then it’s checkout.’
We queue up, offload the grass, Pepsi and solitary donut.
‘You don’t even know what I was going to say.’
‘Yes. I. Do.’
‘Awwwwww. Can I just get one tiny packet of chewing gum? Everyone else in school gets to have chewing gum and….’
‘STOP. Don’t go any further. I know exactly what you’re going to say. I’m your mum. I’m a mind-reader.’
‘Right, put the donut and the Pepsi back then.’
And so on and so on. And that is yet another good reason for never, ever going supermarket shopping…