Us mum’s are the only ones that know there is no such thing as a quick trip to the shops. By the time you have loaded the car with buggies and kids you could have been to the shops and back. Then there is the saga of who gets to sit in the trolley, although you know you don’t actually need enough stuff to fill the trolley, but you know you are going to get more than you bargained for anyway.
Well today was no different, only this time I only have little Monster to come shopping with me and after our last visit I wasn’t taking any chances. Strapped into his buggy where I knew he would be safe and out of his own mischievous way I set off around the shop.
All was peaceful until I heard “Mummy can you open this?” Oh lord this child is not safe even in his own pushchair. He had grabbed a packet of Cheese stings and started nibbling at the packet, it was so wet and soggy, I couldn’t put it back on the shelf. That was another thing I had to buy that wasn’t on the list.
I carried on shopping, whilst keeping a watchful eye on the little monster until all my shopping was eventually done. I struggled to the till trying to carry a very heavy basket and push a pram at the same time (now that’s what I call Multi- tasking). Once at the self serve tills I waited behind a lovely little old lady who was trying to pay for her shopping. She was 80 years old you know, (they love telling you their age) and it was the first time she had ever used the self service checkouts before. She was very sweet and kept apologising for keeping the queue waiting. I pretended I wasn’t bothered, but the waiting queue of men behind me seemed rather unhappy.
But her card kept being declined, and she couldn’t understand why. I happily waited patiently, whilst she kept trying to key in her pin number, in the end I offered to help her. I watched her as she tried again just to be sure she was doing everything right. Then when it was declined again, I suggested she took her card out to make sure her chip wasn’t damaged.
Then to my horror I discovered she had been trying to pay for her shopping with her Tesco Club card. I had to turn away and let out a little giggle, the poor lady was mortified. She went on to explain that it was the same colour as her NatWest card and she hadn’t noticed. The poor lady, every man in the queue was moaning about being held up by her. Do you know what I wasn’t, because in 50 years I know that little old lady will be me and I will take great pleasure holding up a queue of moaning men, because I can.