I’ve just returned from doing the shopping at our local supermarket and since we’re looking forward to the company of friends this weekend, it was quite a haul.
I’d very nearly finished and was standing being indecisive about which chocolates to buy. I left my very full trolley and mooched up and down the rows of Bendicks Bittermints, Ferrero Rocher and Lindt, wondering whether to just go for a huge bowl of Smarties instead. As I turned around slightly, I could see a young woman manoeuvring my trolley so I quickly returned to it, apologising for leaving it in her way.
“Oh, it’s not in my way at all”, she said. “For one minute, I thought it was my trolley but I’m mistaken”.
She gave me a rather superior look, before glancing back down at the contents of my trolley.
“It couldn’t possibly be mine”, she said, and went off on her haughty way.
There, on the top of my shopping was a loaf of white, sliced bread.
Not only that, but it was a reduced loaf of sliced, white bread.
Unpacking the shopping at home, my loaf received a similarly frosty welcome until I offered an explanation.
Anyone would think I’d been buying illegal drugs or something.
