I popped out to go food shopping just before Christmas. For me. One basket, that’s all. Big mistake. The ‘mindless’ were out too. In droves. Stopping for no reason in an aisle for a chat; wandering around in that ‘I’ve no idea why I’m here’ gait; staring at shelves as if they haven’t seen any products in shops before. (“It’s a feckin’ yoghurt. You never seen one?” I wanted to say to one woman who seemed to have gone into a fixated stupor in one of the aisles); pushing trollies around with unfeasible amounts of totally unnecessary food in them as if Armageddon has been announced and that’s the end of the world’s food supply.
Meanwhile, I’m in ‘commando shop mode’ (get in, get it, get out); if any one had been looking at CCTV footage the scene would have looked like one of those sci-fi movie special animation shots where the masses are in slow-mo and the alien is whizzing about like a dervish on high-grade amphetamines.
I survived but I’m not sure I provided the perfect Christmas spirited response when the checkout person asked, “You ready for Christmas?” when I replied, “Shut the f**k up and gimme a bag. I ain’t a bleedin’ juggler.”
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