The thing to understand about me is that I don't blog... I've never seen the point... I've never kept a diary (which is fortunate as I don't see any publishers knocking down my door for a autobiography), and if I did keep one I'd err on the side of caution as to whether I'd let anyone see it... I certainly wouldn't post my day-to-day life on the internet for anyone to see... mainly because not enough interesting things happen to me on a daily basis that I feel the need to force them upon the world.
So if I don't blog then the only thing left for me to do is rant... and every so often a good rant is important. It clears the mind and strengthens the soul, and it's cheaper than a therapist, and safer than a hooker.
Now I want you to know I do love Christmas... mainly those three days more than the weeks that proceed it, but I do love it. I don't want to come across like some Scrooge, humbuging his way through the festivities, but the past 18 months have been utter crap for me, so a good rant now will clear me of negativity, just so I can enjoy the holidays. This has nothing to do with those 18 months, lets just settle for today.
So, my ex-fiancée and I are spending Boxing Day together, so we decided to do a "Festive Lasagne". I don't know why it's festive, other than the preparation time being much longer than the actual time enjoying it. There's no turkey in it or roast potatoes, or brussel sprouts (thankfully), just a lot of ingredients picked up from the Italian section of the local Tesco. Maybe it's what the Pope eats at Christmas?
I had planned to go shopping a 3am last night. I'd steaked-out Tesco's, planned my route inside and out, and had even tried to obtain the building plans from the local council, just in-case I could find a way to do the shopping Ninja-style.
Unfortunately, this ninja fell asleep. Bad Ninja! Bad bad ninja!
So I made my way there today, dreading what I might find, which amazingly was a parking space as soon as I entered the car-park. A good sign you may think, but in reality, it was just a clever ploy to lead me into a false sense of security. Bad car park!
The place was fucking heaving! This isn't one of these small supermarkets, this is a huge Tesco Extra, and every isle is filled with the enemy. The supermarket is a battle-ground, where you are greatly out-numbered by hostile forces, so you need to be light and nimble, to get out in one piece.
Now, I don't generally use trolleys, because they restrict me in my environment. The way I see it, they didn't have trolleys in Nam, so I'm not having one here. However, if pushed, I'll compromise and grudgingly grab a wire basket, but today, I had too much on that list, I had no choice.
Now as an aside, I'd just like to state, on the off chance that someone might hear; Mothers! A push-chair is not a weapon. Please don't think that storming towards me with that thing in front of you is in anyway intimidating. If you catch my feet with it, I WILL lose my balance and I WILL use your child's face and my knee to steady myself. Bad mums!
Anyway, back to the plan. In and out, just like that. Except, I was right about the trolley. Both a necessity and a hindrance. The sound of metal clashing violently against metal, the screams of the weaker shoppers falling by the wayside, crushed between metallic monsters and the unnerving controllers with a demons glint in their eyes. This was no place for the weak.
I came across a couple having an argument, she was complaining at him because the store didn't have the meat she wanted, he was retorting that she been to the fucking butchers the day before so why didn't she get it there? I would normally have sided with him, had we been somewhere else, but here it's every man for themselves. In-fighting is good. At best they'll kill each other and lessen the enemies numbers, at worst the distraction will allow you to pass them unhindered.
I checked off the items on my list, moving through the store as swiftly as I could with the metal burden in front of me. It's like carrying a wounded comrade, through hostile territory. You just can't leave them behind, and yet at some point you may have to, even for a while. This one had a wounded left front wheel. Bad comrade!
I made my way to an area of the store that seemed temporarily quieter, though I knew it would last for long, I could see the other end of the store filling up further. The enemy were still coming, was there no end to there numbers? Bad enemy! Very very bad enemy!
I was going to have to leave the trolley here. I was about to go into the lions den, the sweet, biscuits and bread aisle, I couldn't have any weight holding me back. Hmm, two in one plan! Grab the marshmallows, the sugar, the flour and the chocolate chips, then just when their not expecting it, I'll shoot down the dairy aisle, grab the milk and cream, then come around the back of the bread aisle, grab the grannery loaf, and back to the trolley. The timing had to be perfect, one mistake could end in disaster.
I made my move. Sugar - CHECK. Flour - CHECK. Five packets of Plain Chocolate Chips - CHECK. Marshmallows - ? Marshmallows? Where are they? They should be here? I hadn't provided for this possiblity, what to do? Damn! Wasn't concentrating, wasn't looking. I've been surrounded. Pinned in on all sides. Was this how it would end? Me trapped like a hare, while a shop assistant tutted as she put all my shopping back? I wasn't going to let that happen! I head-butted the man to my left, and levelled his wife before she could make any protest... at least I think I did... I may have just said "excuse me"? The panic induced adrenalin rush makes it hard to remember.
I was back to my trolley. Still there, safe and sound by the cleaning products. Now to the till, but wait! I forgot milk and cream. It was too late, the queue were getting longer, I had to make my escape now. I tagged on to the first queue I found without looking. That was a rookie mistake, I've been doing this too long, I should have known better. There were grannies in this line.
And what is it with old people? The check-out operator asks if they want help packing, and they say "No, we'll be all right." Really? I mean you can barely hold your hand steady enough to get count out the money, and it takes you two minutes just to open a fucking carrier bag! You not long for this world, so why waste what little time you have left packing shopping? Bad old people!
It felt like an age of men had passed me by while I stood in that queue, but finally I would feel the natures breath on my face once again. I was out in the open once more but then my communications device activated. My Mother, who I'm going to see Christmas Day, phoned to tell me that she had forgotten to get one of her husbands presents, and asked whether I could pick up a Mariah Carey CD? Oddly she had weeks to prepare for this coming moment, it's not like Christmas is a secret or anything. I mean if she told me a couple of days ago, I could have ordered it on Amazon. Bad Mother! Bad Bad Mother!
Still, I did need milk and cream, and there was another supermarket just across the road. I started to formulate another plan. I deposited my shopping into the boot of my car, and bid a tearful farewell to my injured comrade trolley. As I made my way on foot to the doors of Sainsbury, I knew, another battle was about to begin.
So if I don't blog then the only thing left for me to do is rant... and every so often a good rant is important. It clears the mind and strengthens the soul, and it's cheaper than a therapist, and safer than a hooker.
Now I want you to know I do love Christmas... mainly those three days more than the weeks that proceed it, but I do love it. I don't want to come across like some Scrooge, humbuging his way through the festivities, but the past 18 months have been utter crap for me, so a good rant now will clear me of negativity, just so I can enjoy the holidays. This has nothing to do with those 18 months, lets just settle for today.
So, my ex-fiancée and I are spending Boxing Day together, so we decided to do a "Festive Lasagne". I don't know why it's festive, other than the preparation time being much longer than the actual time enjoying it. There's no turkey in it or roast potatoes, or brussel sprouts (thankfully), just a lot of ingredients picked up from the Italian section of the local Tesco. Maybe it's what the Pope eats at Christmas?
I had planned to go shopping a 3am last night. I'd steaked-out Tesco's, planned my route inside and out, and had even tried to obtain the building plans from the local council, just in-case I could find a way to do the shopping Ninja-style.
Unfortunately, this ninja fell asleep. Bad Ninja! Bad bad ninja!
So I made my way there today, dreading what I might find, which amazingly was a parking space as soon as I entered the car-park. A good sign you may think, but in reality, it was just a clever ploy to lead me into a false sense of security. Bad car park!
The place was fucking heaving! This isn't one of these small supermarkets, this is a huge Tesco Extra, and every isle is filled with the enemy. The supermarket is a battle-ground, where you are greatly out-numbered by hostile forces, so you need to be light and nimble, to get out in one piece.
Now, I don't generally use trolleys, because they restrict me in my environment. The way I see it, they didn't have trolleys in Nam, so I'm not having one here. However, if pushed, I'll compromise and grudgingly grab a wire basket, but today, I had too much on that list, I had no choice.
Now as an aside, I'd just like to state, on the off chance that someone might hear; Mothers! A push-chair is not a weapon. Please don't think that storming towards me with that thing in front of you is in anyway intimidating. If you catch my feet with it, I WILL lose my balance and I WILL use your child's face and my knee to steady myself. Bad mums!
Anyway, back to the plan. In and out, just like that. Except, I was right about the trolley. Both a necessity and a hindrance. The sound of metal clashing violently against metal, the screams of the weaker shoppers falling by the wayside, crushed between metallic monsters and the unnerving controllers with a demons glint in their eyes. This was no place for the weak.
I came across a couple having an argument, she was complaining at him because the store didn't have the meat she wanted, he was retorting that she been to the fucking butchers the day before so why didn't she get it there? I would normally have sided with him, had we been somewhere else, but here it's every man for themselves. In-fighting is good. At best they'll kill each other and lessen the enemies numbers, at worst the distraction will allow you to pass them unhindered.
I checked off the items on my list, moving through the store as swiftly as I could with the metal burden in front of me. It's like carrying a wounded comrade, through hostile territory. You just can't leave them behind, and yet at some point you may have to, even for a while. This one had a wounded left front wheel. Bad comrade!
I made my way to an area of the store that seemed temporarily quieter, though I knew it would last for long, I could see the other end of the store filling up further. The enemy were still coming, was there no end to there numbers? Bad enemy! Very very bad enemy!
I was going to have to leave the trolley here. I was about to go into the lions den, the sweet, biscuits and bread aisle, I couldn't have any weight holding me back. Hmm, two in one plan! Grab the marshmallows, the sugar, the flour and the chocolate chips, then just when their not expecting it, I'll shoot down the dairy aisle, grab the milk and cream, then come around the back of the bread aisle, grab the grannery loaf, and back to the trolley. The timing had to be perfect, one mistake could end in disaster.
I made my move. Sugar - CHECK. Flour - CHECK. Five packets of Plain Chocolate Chips - CHECK. Marshmallows - ? Marshmallows? Where are they? They should be here? I hadn't provided for this possiblity, what to do? Damn! Wasn't concentrating, wasn't looking. I've been surrounded. Pinned in on all sides. Was this how it would end? Me trapped like a hare, while a shop assistant tutted as she put all my shopping back? I wasn't going to let that happen! I head-butted the man to my left, and levelled his wife before she could make any protest... at least I think I did... I may have just said "excuse me"?
The panic induced adrenalin rush makes it hard to remember.I was back to my trolley. Still there, safe and sound by the cleaning products. Now to the till, but wait! I forgot milk and cream. It was too late, the queue were getting longer, I had to make my escape now. I tagged on to the first queue I found without looking. That was a rookie mistake, I've been doing this too long, I should have known better. There were grannies in this line.
And what is it with old people? The check-out operator asks if they want help packing, and they say "No, we'll be all right." Really? I mean you can barely hold your hand steady enough to get count out the money, and it takes you two minutes just to open a fucking carrier bag! You not long for this world, so why waste what little time you have left packing shopping? Bad old people!
It felt like an age of men had passed me by while I stood in that queue, but finally I would feel the natures breath on my face once again. I was out in the open once more but then my communications device activated. My Mother, who I'm going to see Christmas Day, phoned to tell me that she had forgotten to get one of her husbands presents, and asked whether I could pick up a Mariah Carey CD? Oddly she had weeks to prepare for this coming moment, it's not like Christmas is a secret or anything. I mean if she told me a couple of days ago, I could have ordered it on Amazon. Bad Mother! Bad Bad Mother!
Still, I did need milk and cream, and there was another supermarket just across the road. I started to formulate another plan. I deposited my shopping into the boot of my car, and bid a tearful farewell to my injured comrade trolley. As I made my way on foot to the doors of Sainsbury, I knew, another battle was about to begin.
