I have just sat here for ten minutes desperately trying to think of something to write about. I seem to have hit something of a dry spell. Perhaps it has to do with the “big project” at work coming to an end. Perhaps I am “free wheeling” for a few days.
I’ll fire up the media player and put on something smooth. It might kick start my artistic bent. It might not. “Belle and Sebastian” should do.
Okay. What to write about? What has annoyed me recently?
Actually, before starting it’s worth pointing out that a certain spouse of mine might tell you that I am quickly becoming a “grumpy old man”. I would dispute this - but I would also concede that lots of things annoy more; I tend not to share my annoyances with everybody though.
Here’s a good one. We went shopping in the local supermarket last week. While walking around the isles pushing a trolley I made way for several people at intersections. Nobody made way for me. What’s going on there? Why am I the person who always makes way for others? That’s not the real story though - the “event of note” happened as the thought of “Ice Cream” came into my head.
I’m going to digress again. I can feel it. I am a supermarket “ambler”. I am quite content to steer my trolley as one might a large ship, taking in the supermarket ambience, and the various goodies that might make their way into the trolley. “Oo - that looks good. I’ll get one of those”. W is not an “ambler”. W is an unstable missile. Supermarkets have an unpleasant effect on W - on more than one occaision I have seen her physically shake with unspoken fury at the clueless crowds that congregate, blocking the isles. I have also seen her leave with half of her intended shopping after irrational “giving up” outbursts.
Going shopping with W is entertaining in the same way as playing with fireworks.
Where was I?
Oh yes. Ice cream. While floating past the freezer section, enjoying the trundle, the chocolate ice cream called out to me. It does that, you know, calling out - just like in “Field of Dreams”. So I found myself being sucked in by the tubs of chocolate ice cream - only I couldn’t get to them. Stood en-mass in front of the chocolate ice cream cabinet were three teenage girls. I politely waited.
“But I don’t like vanilla”. “What about chocolate fudge brownie?”. “I’m not sure - this one is better”. Now, if it had been me, I would have bought one tub each, and had done with it. I wandered off in my mind - as I often do. I’m not sure what I might have been daydreaming about, but W arrived and prodded me back into the present. “What are you doing?”. I nodded towards the girls by the ice cream. “Waiting to get some ice cream”. W walked off to find the vegemince.
Another minute passed. This was getting a bit silly. What to do? Interrupt the extremely important united nations conference on what what ice cream to watch Dirty Dancing with, or stand here (like a polite person) and wait. It dawned on me while juggling with this decision that they might be students, and might only be able to afford one tub. This thought made me feel sorry for them, and I thought twice about interrupting them.
Somewhere another area of my brain kicked in and my feet started locomoting me towards them. This was probably the area of my brain that knows about W becoming violent if she spends too much time in supermarkets.
I would like to say I had a storming argument with the three girls and convinced them of the error of their ways - or that I bought them a tub of ice cream each, and they were forever in my debt. Unfortunately neither happened. Apparently I don’t exist. They shuffled one step to the side as I reached across - almost as if avoiding a homeless person - and didn’t miss a beat in their deliberations.
Why had I stood there for the last few minutes politely waiting for them? Why?
For all I know they are still there now - and the store manager is stood politely waiting three paces behind them, juggling the same conundrum I did. I know as we left the ice cream isle they were still there. Perhaps there will be a bronze statue in years to come in the middle of that supermarket - of three girls jointly holding one tub of ice cream, with fingers held to pursed lips, and thoughtful expressions.