The shopping news
Enniskillen today, then. Our once a month trip up North to replenish the cupboards and restock the freezer usually begins with a very fast drive-by of the school, pushing #2 out randomly by the school gate and shouting ‘bye!’ before performing a nifty handbrake turn and hightailing it up to the North.
RANDOM FACT: I have been stopped for speeding three times since we moved to Ireland. The last time (erm… yesterday) I was doing 117 kph in a 100 kph limit. This is patently not my fault as I just don’t think in kilometres per hour. I’m not hard-wired for it. In the same way that I’m not hard wired for adding up, dividing or taking away, working out exchange rates or changing pounds into grams. Sorry. It’s just my biology. I blame my mother. Anyway, when I’d explained all this (at considerable length) to the very large, impatient-looking Garda standing at my car window holding the speed gun, he sighed, muttered ‘well just slow down anyway’ and walked back to his squad car. Hubby is disgusted that I got ‘let off! Again!’ as the last time he got stopped for speeding he was doing 117kph too and he got an €80 fine. He still starts muttering under his breath (something about ‘blonde’ and ‘cleavage’ and ‘fluttering eyelashes’) every time anyone mentions it. Men – they’re so bitter.
So where was I? Oh yeah. Cue the ‘Catch the Pigeon’ music and here’s how our shopping expeditions go:
- Fling out the child (oh, done that bit). It’s okay, he’s quite hard-wearing. Screech off in a northerly direction.
- Get to Tesco. Park. Visit the ladies’ room (no, just me. What? I have a small bladder)
- Perform a high-speed two-man trolley dash.
- Get tutted at a lot. This can be for anything from checking ingredients, commenting on what other people have got in their trolley, striking up random conversations with people about what they’ve got in their trolley, suggesting things to random people that I think will go nicely with what they’ve got in their trolley, thinking that something will go really well with something else that I haven’t got and having to go back and look for it, complaining that ice cream should be made with cream, eggs and sugar, and not weird re-something-or-othered vegetable oil, taking ice cream not made with eggs, cream and sugar out of Hubby’s trolley and putting it back in the freezer, striking up conversation with really nice checkout lady and sharing secret eyebrow-raising smiles at the packing/hopping about bit (see step 5)… anything, really.
- Get to checkout where one person packs the stuff while the other one places it on the conveyor belt, then the first one (guess who) hops up and down with frustration as their end is now full up and they need the trolley, which is still being unpacked at the other end.
- Look at total. Sigh. Roll eyes slowly towards wife. Raise eyebrows in very judgmental manner. Sigh again. Pay. (Guess who). Visit the ladies’ room.
- Rush out to car, unpack trolleys
- Rush back in to Tesco, grab two more trolleys, rush to wine section and repeat trolley dash but with alcohol.
- Repeat step 5. Repeat step 6. Visit the ladies’ room.
- Rush back to car. Stuff bottles in on top of everything else, crushing fruit and breaking eggs.
- Hightail it back (under the speed limit, naturally) whilst mentally composing new recipes (me) and moaning about how much it bloody costs to do these massive great shops, how bloody annoying it is doing the packing when the other person doesn’t pull their weight, how blondes never get speeding fines etc etc (him), arriving in time to screech up outside the door of the school just as it’s kicking out time, grabbing child and hurtling back to English Towers where the great unpacking fest begins.
So not stressful at all, then, really.
That reminds me, Con’s being a feck these days. Be a love and bump him off for me? Thanks Sweetie! X
Also, no wonder you need to keep visiting the ladies’ room if you stock up two whole trolleys with alcohol. Tut, tut.
Oh, and what’s a ‘feeding fine’?
Tee hee.
*Runs off sniggering*
Ma: Mm hmmm. I’ll believe you. I didn’t inherit your mathematical ability but I did inherit your cleavage (not sure I could flutter it tho!) xx
Jen: Who me? Get away with stuff? Never! And wha? Thy little angel being a pickle? He’s always a diamond when I’m present
Jay: come back here ye little monkey! It does last a long time… honest! x
Growup: Gah, dread the thought. Nah, just a leaky washer x
… and I thought my shopping was a mare … and I do it online. A whole DAY food shopping, no wonder you need a whole trolley oof alcohol!
Erica: ‘Tis. But if you don’t do it the prices at the local shops are ridiculous. I’ve just compared my Tesco bill to one I did locally. Get this:
Milk (the 4 pint one): £1.18 compared to €1.49
Bread (thick cut, plastic): 78p compared to €1.53
Butter (large pack): £1.55 compared to €2.38
2 pack Douwe Egberts filter coffee £3.99 compared to 1 pack €4.26
So it’s well worth going. We stockpile lots of stuff that we use every day (like bread, butter, milk, chicken, etc in our fetching Cornetto chest freezer) and bulk-buy tea bags, toiletries, squash and tins, etc. It saves us a fortune – even with the petrol. I can only handle it once a month though, it’s knackering! x
One day let’s meet up? Coffee at Mrs O’Malley’s or down at the Buttermarket instead of/with a Tesco run? Or a flying go at all the charity shops perhaps??
Ma: Yeh, it’s off some website devoted to finding dodgy deals and taking pics of them. Rather a cracker, I thought x
Susan: Sounds fantastic! Always up for a shopping partner. Next time I’m planning I’ll email you, k? xx
Nutty: Yes. Very expensive ones. I miss Engerland x
DBM: The kidney’s yours. Shall I mail you some Twiglets petal? x
Moon: Yep. I’m afraid so. And it’s always Jay that spots them too. She’s like the typo police
Thanks for the Twiglet offer – but I can get a suitcase full when I come over in the summer. I’ll pick up the kidney then as well, thank you.
Maxi: I’m crushed. I bet you’re a nightmare in the underwear department though, so that feeling’s probably mutual.
TM: Oh, a real chinese? You’re sooooooo lucky!
Baino: There’s a whole new career for Jay there. I’ve noticed that at Aldi – they just hurl everything towards the end (they must be trained to do it as there’s a big bumper thingy there).
DBM: Er…okay. I’ll have it on ice for you. Might slightly dampen my enthusiasm at the party though
Sadly, I can’t grow washing powder
You really ought to pop down to the Loch, Missus. There are excellent rocks there of the sheet-pounding variety. And the surrounding bushes will do for washing lines so you won’t have to turn on the Satanic Dryer.
Washing Powder is for Sissies. ;P
Towny: Oh deffo. I can’t help a little self-satisfied sigh every time I open one of my groaning cupboards!
Jen: Don’t ask. You’ll just encourage him.
All together now – BLEEEEEUGH!!!
Take THAT suspicious-knicker-wearing-type-person!! LOL!!
Jenny/Moon tag team? Be. Very. Afraid.
May have to scoop out my own eyeballs and pop them in a blender before I remove the stain on my brain courtesy of ‘panic button’. :O
Cheers Max. (barf)
Jen: NEVER EVER push the panic button.
Moon: That told her.
Asda do this kind of “promotion” all the time… You’d think someone would spot the problem