Eds

There I was. 9.00am and my trolley was at the ready. We jostled for position and I tried to get round the blind side of one old guy but his wife put her walking stick in the way. I could have run over it but that might have caused a riot and a couple of heart attacks! There was no talking. Everybody had their eyes on the doors waiting for the red jacketed guy to come and activate the automatic opening mechanism.

The crowd stirred a bit as they thought they had spied him inside, but it was a false alarm, nevertheless the crowd move forward in little shuffles, the front trolley actually touching the glass doors. I tried another manoeuvre through the middle but I was spotted and they closed ranks. There was no way through.

Finally, Mr Red Jacket appeared, the crowd murmured and the doors sprung open. There was no point in rushing now.

I was at Ed’s – the supermarket which is a part of Carrefour, the second biggest retailer after Wal Mart. J is off on one of her spring holidays and I am left at home managing kids and pets alike. So far, so good – she’s only been gone 24 hours but things can change!

J did offer to get ‘the shopping in’ before she went but I decided I needed a trip to Ed’s to get my own stuff and sometimes they have some good plants, so after dropping the kids off for the school bus, I motored the 8 miles or so to the shed known as Ed’s.  

J once described it as ‘a not very nice shopping experience’, but if you tend to spend a couple of hours in there I could appreciate that point of view, but in and out in 30  minutes max and it’s ok. When I occasionally go with J, it’s a study in everything men say about women. No plan. No strategy. Looking at the sell-by-date on everything – even toilet rolls for God’s sake! Reading the ingredients on dog biscuits which she read only last week – have they changed?  Forgetting the kids’ coke and having to go all the way back through the store to get it and then when we eventually get to the check-out, everything is arranged on the belt as if there was going to be an inspection of how neatly the items have been placed on it. Maybe she thinks she’ll get a discount for having the neatest conveyor belt of items?

Anyway, back to 9am and the reason I was trying to pull a flanker on all the old codgers who were waiting for the doors to burst open – it’s the veg section you see. For some absolutely mind numbing reason, everybody who enters Ed’s has to go through the veg and meat section in order to get to the main bit of the store. Even if you just wanted a baguette, a quick in and out for your lunchtime bit of bread, you’d have to go past the aisles and aisles of fruit and veg, before coming to the meat counter where trolleys are casually abandoned right in the middle of the passageway. The nutters who drive little white Peugeots and Renaults like maniacs - they end their days trolley-ramming in Ed’s and when the shins become sore, they cast aside their ‘chariots’ (French for trolley) any old where.

So I knew what was coming. As soon as the doors opened and the trolleys, being used as ad-hoc zimmer frames, moved in fits and bursts towards the veg section, there was an almighty log jam. Wheels locked together. Walking sticks were pointed and voices raised. Some trolleys were simply cast aside as their owners went in search of the best aubergine on display, totally oblivious to the fact that they’d caused utter carnage.

I could see all this coming so despite the fact that I wanted to beat my record of 22 minutes (in and out) I simply moved my trolley to the side and wandered off to look at the plants. Ten minutes later, after several of the codgers had been moved aside by the mini fork-lift truck and the aisles were clear, I wandered through the veg section with not a soul in sight. Reminded me of a nursing home at dinner time!