Lost in Waitrose

It had to happen, sooner or later we went
shopping together. Not a good move and
the cause of an epic row.
I stuffed our shopping trolley with, bagels, cheese,
chocolate, icecream, popcorn the usual. Alan
chose real food, scary stuff, like fresh pasta,
meat, vegetables. I ignored his idiotic choices
until:
"Oh this chardonnay is superb." Looking very
pleased with himself (as if he'd pressed the grapes
himself) and thoughrily irritating me.
"Don't talk like that, you sound like a ponce."
I muttered.
"Excuse me?" He frowned at me and stopped
in the aisle.
"And don't stop! You never stop in a supermarket,
you have to keep moving! We'll run into old folk
and fat people with two trolleys!"
"Shopping for food is meant to be fun, whats
wrong with you?" He demanded, still standing still.
"I'll wait for you at the fucking till." I snapped.
"Whoah! Whats with the bad language? This is
meant to be pleasent." Alan did look hurt and
confused (I have this effect on most people).
"Look, these places give me the creeps, I
just grab and go, whats wrong with that?"
"You have'nt bought anything edible, it's all
junk."
"It might be to you sonny Jim, can we please
hurry?"
By the time I'd walked around I was fit
to have a hissy attack. Then we had to queue.
"Patience is a virtue. My dear."
"I'll wait outside, I'll be having a fag? You have
enough money?"
"Humph." he said and sulkily began to unload.

Still on a brighter note no more postie stuff
Becka