On the list were tomatoes, cereal and a new husband

Inspiring Tim shows you can reach for the stars

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So there I was writing a shopping list when, in a fey moment, I decided to add ‘new husband’ between tomatoes and cereal.

Why? Well, I thought it would be him going to the supermarket.

Once I wrote a list containing a whole load of nonsense words written in awful scrawl to add an element of fun to his shopping excursion

It would add a little excitement to the precise OCD framework that he has to shop within (of my making).

When I send my man hunter-gathering for a week’s supply of groceries, the list needs to be exact, containing every item in the order of the aisles in which they’re found.

He hasn’t requested this, but if I send him with a blank page and give him the opportunity to go off piste we’ll be eating burgers, meatballs and chicken Kievs for a week.

Plus there’s nothing worse than trying to cook a whole load of meals over the week when you don’t have the staple ingredients you need because someone else shopped.

Like potatoes. Or, if they do make it back to the cupboard, they’re ones which have been lurking at the bottom of the bin in the supermarket since last summer and are therefore sprouting some new strain of vegetation out of a dodgy eye.

Leaving a husband to shop willy-nilly can also mean stuff from the bargain bin.

This can be okay, but when you’re presented with three joints of meat all on the turn which need cooking that very evening in order to avoid death by stench, life can get a little hairy.

But with all this list precision, I have to offer up a little adventure for the poor man.

Once I wrote a list containing a whole load of nonsense words written in awful scrawl to add an element of fun to his shopping excursion.

This week adding a new husband (bracketed with aisle six in case he didn’t know where to look) seemed an ace plan.

Alas, I was caught out by my family who spied this item.

‘He’s going to Asda mum,’ my daughter said.

‘You’ll end up with a smart price husband. Are you sure you want one of those?’

Someone then added: ‘Wouldn’t it be better if he went to Waitrose, at least then you’d get a John Lewis quality husband?’