My local food store is Whole Foods Market. Yes, I know it's ridiculous that I shop there. It's all organic, vegan, save the whale, etc. Here am I, a pensioner, savings worth b*gger all thanks to Tory austerity, constantly threatened with the end of the so-called 'triple-lock' that protects my pension - and remember people like me have a limited shelf life: I could in fact be deid next week - but I like to get my Ramsay's bacon (no, not that Ramsay), avocados, Ayrshire free range eggs, and the odd pizzette (not sure about that word - it seems suspect, spelling-wise but the tomato-parmesan version is quite tasty).
So today I decided to visit the organic Valhalla. I was last there on Wednesday afternoon, after volunteering at Elder Park Library and had to leave after half an hour because the noise of chairs scraping across the floor, the brain-dead music and the constant grizzling of middle-class weans began to get to me and my CFS.
Today, a toddler had been given a mini-trolley by daddy, I'm guessing as a way to stop her noticing how boring food shopping really is. As I made my way to the egg section, she dropped her trolley right in front of me and launched herself into a tantrum. I don't mind kids having tantrums. (Gawd knows, I've seen plenty adults do the same). Just don't expect people like me to deal with them. That's what parents are for, right? I stepped round her but caught the eye of a member of staff. We smiled - and moved on.
The sound of the tantrum followed us. I've no idea where daddy was - possibly in the toilet. I checked the ready meals, the chiller cabinet, didn't fancy the cheeses, couldn't find the Yorkshire cooked ham (WFM - please note) and headed for the cafe to get an Americano to go and check out the goodies I'd bought. We could still hear the tantrum going on behind us. The member of staff I'd seen earlier said:
- Have you calmed down yet?
- Bl**dy weans! I said.
Her colleague looked depressed:
- And it's only going to get worse, he said.
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