I’m still revelling in the incident that took place in Asda at the weekend.
Now that I’m back working on the south coast for the time being, I get to do things like visit the supermarket.
However, instead of wandering up and down the aisles consumed by the boredom of another weekly shop, I was like a Cheshire cat grinning from ear to ear.
Normality at last! It feels wonderful even though this particular experience wasn’t quite so pleasurable given the huge number of people shopping in what can only be described as their nightwear or slobbing-out-wear – onesies and Ugg boots.
Er why? This is certainly not attire that should be donned for a trip to the shops.
Before you all start shouting, I know I wear my PJs to buy milk from the little shop next door, but that’s different, because a) it’s physically next door, b) I wear a large coat to conceal such attire and c) because I said so...
Anyway, I was buying goodies for our Saturday evening in (what bliss) and having had a rather ‘unusual’ massage experience (I’ll save that for another time) was feeling relaxed, so popped a bottle of sauvignon blanc in my basket. I have sophisticated from pinot grigio to sauvignon blanc, by the way.
I might have been feeling content, but the woman on the checkout wasn’t. She looked at me as though I was trying to steal it.
She said rather bluntly: ‘Lady, I need your ID before you can pop that one away.’
I said defiantly: ‘I’m almost 32, you know.’
It didn’t make the slightest difference. She insisted on seeing my driving licence which, annoyingly, I didn’t have on me.
Well, I’ve never seen someone so pleased at the prospect of turning me down.
I, however, was thrilled. ‘I’ve still got it! Whoop, whoop!’ is what I thought. In fact I wanted to punch the air in delight.
Mrs Checkout though seemed rather annoyed by my lack of dismay and continued to dribble on about the rules of the store. ‘No ID, no drinkies.’
Wow, what a power trip.
However, I went home, wineless but with an even more sizable ego than when I went in.