To coincide with this week’s podcast.

The scene is familiar to you, right? Confusion and impatience, accompanied by eighties music and loose children getting in your way. Yes, you are at the supermarket. And it is one of the few places where, for no reason, we become beasts.

Of course, the managers of these places have received training in how to take advantage of our weaknesses. They play with us. We only want to buy bread and we have to go along all the aisles as far as possible from the entrance before finding it, so that we can pick up more things along the way. How can we not show our monstrous side if we only came in to buy bread, and we spent half an hour deciding between two brands of tuna, which we don’t even need, and on top of that now a huge queue has formed, and no way will we get home in time to see Bake Off?

The milk or the broken eggs that you step on, the “it wasn’t me” thing when you go to pick up one thing and drop another, the trolley that you will never be able to steer; you think it’s because of a wheel, but in reality it has a life of its own, all make for a wonderful experience. And that’s not to mention (but I will) the butcher and fishmonger within the supermarket. *Why we even bother saying not to mention when the phrase itself is a forerunner to mentioning it, I’ll never know. Anyway, I’m talking about when you want to buy fresh and you have your eye on a lovely bit of cod, but there are people in front of you and you’re desperately hoping they won’t take that last juicy fillet before it’s your turn. And then it turns out they have taken it and it’s your turn and you had your heart set on it, so you just slink away pretending you were only browsing. (Do we browse fish?)

You finally get to the queue (pronounced ku-way-way as I once told students on a slow afternoon). You have a daft look of concentration on your face as you try to convince yourself that you haven’t forgotten anything. So, you’re already in line, looking at the various bleaches in the hell of the cleaning supplies aisle, doing the dance of avoiding the people who are still shopping. There is only one till open. This will be slow. And then they open another till but you’re already too close to change, so tantalisingly close. To top it all, the cod-thief has moved to the new till and will probably be home before you’ve even paid. And then the cashier makes your day with his/her spontaneous smile, and his/her desire to help you by putting everything heavy in one bag, and everything light in another. How I love to see how he/she extends his/her hand without looking at me, moving it continuously, while I try to empty my coins into it like a bewildered granny.

And those people who save their place. Yes, you know who you are.

There are two techniques. First, you leave the basket in the queue and continue shopping. Some people respect that. I am one of those who doesn’t. To me, it is an abandoned basket, and an unaccompanied basket has no right to save a place. Second, and much worse, because you can’t fight it, is people working as a team as if it were a military operation. I give you an example. Christmas Eve. If you are going to shop that day you need to rethink your priorities, but that aside. Christmas Eve. You have enough shopping, or so you think, to last you for a week, and you get in line. You choose it wisely. One: Fewer people, but all with full trolleys. Two: More people, but Spartan baskets. You take a risk. The one with the baskets. You are five people away, four, three, two, and suddenly, with the precision of a general in the middle of a war, the girl in front of you, with a half-full basket, makes a gesture to her mother, who is in the next door queue and with no warning, you are behind a woman with a trolley so full that it would have been better to take two, and you can’t say a word. They had a plan! Let’s get in two different queues and whoever arrives first calls the other one. You can’t say anything, right? But once, I admit that I started to make snide comments under my breath, (of course, you’re not going to make a scene in such a public place), like; I can’t believe it, the gall of some people … The woman looked at me, challenging me, but I would like to think that I made her feel ashamed too. Who am I kidding. This has become the survival of the fittest.

It seems we have indignation aplenty about commonplace activities. And we also have innate, honed skills that allow us to evaluate, make decisions and organize ourselves if my supermarket experiences are anything to go by. Maybe we could put those skills to better use…

You fill in the gaps.

Just a thought.

NEW PODCAST AVAILABLE! At link below and on Spotify

Episode Fourteen: Interview: British Idiosyncrasies