carmella chihuahua
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Not a storyI am constantly surprised by people who say they hate shopping in supermarkets.
They generally fall into three categories
1. Lots of kids, very busy, very stressed. Can’t stand in queues without losing a firstborn-shopping not fun when constantly throwing illicit Smarties out of trolley. You can hear their blood pressure.
2. Middleclass parents who react to Tescos as though you have said ‘Belsen’ or Treblinka’ (two middleclass kids names waiting to happen)-‘Oh no, I always go shopping at the farmers market-such a bargain you know-I got some two stone ciabatta for Gabriel’s lunch for only £4.99! These are the parents who give their toddlers fair trade alfalfa sprouts and Marks and Spencer’s mineral water for lunch and thus create curl wurly obsessed toddlers who are too tragically weak to shoplift.
3. Happy singles, students or delightfully frivolous parents who spend a fortune in the local Smile shop on stiff white loaves for a quid, mild cheddar and pot noodles whose collective price is far more than a week eating a la carte at the Ivy.
Personally I love supermarkets. I am cunning enough to use contraceptives so err, tranquilly wander the aisles amazing at pizza flavoured crumpets and U.V coloured drink.
The music in supermarkets is also surreally interesting. Particularly the Co-Op. There is no differentiation between current popular music and music that was once popular. You can peruse the dairy aisle to Robbie Williams, Nirvana and N. Sync, a combination of which obviously makes you want to purchase more commodities. I swear I once heard a snippet of Nine Inch Nails which filled me with such industrial euphoria I purchased far too many Snack a Jacks.
The CD aisle is particularly amusing. Who on earth in 2006 when nipping out to the local corner shop to get some baked beans would get excited about a five-year old Corr’s CD ‘reduced’ to a mere 9.99? Haven’t they heard of Fopp?
Today I witnessed England braces on offer at a staggering half price. We lost. A while ago. The one percent of Englander’s who still wear braces must be aware of the fact and I strongly suspect people who still wear braces are not interested in the world cup even if George Cross motifed braces can be purchased for a bargainatious 2.99.
Supermarkets merchandise do of course vary according to the postcode. My postcode is BA2 which means I obviously only wish to purchase organic artichokes and fair trade sundried tomatoes. The irony of this is that I travel to Lidl in Bristol to purchase ‘fancy goods’ such as sundried tomatoes and ciabatta as I cannot afford them in Bath without having to mortgage my second home in Tuscany.
Sometimes I lie in bed and yearn for Kwiksave. I dream of unethical baked beans at 9p a tin and cackle frenziedly at the idea of turkey twizzlers. Then I wake up and go to the farmers market to get some spaghetti hoops made out of organic wheat handmade by Bolivians who have been paid to make them instead of cocaine. What a waste. This is all for the benefit of the London evacuees, the ones who laugh sweetly at local accents and roll their eyes at the mention of Twerton before buying ten houses there for posh students to rent who will be dead excited about living in a common place where there’s only pot noodles in the local Spar but then the deli’s will start roaring in like in Oldfield Park (next to Twerton) in Bath where now you have a huge range of ciabattas, no locals as they have had to move due to braying students at 3am and house prices rising and soon soon, there will be nowhere ever to buy Sunny Delight and white sliced and if there is...you are sitting on a fortune. Open up a cut price supermarket and wait for the tills to start ironically aringing.
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