I knew I had a problem as soon as I saw her. Big, thick forearms, squat build, short cropped hair, jutting chin, leaning aggressively and heavily on her heavy duty trolley. Wherever I was in Safeways doing my three phone shop (I am allowed three calls on the mobile for guidance from the wife and other authority figures at home) there she was between me and my desired goodies. She hovered around the turkey breasts overhearing my call for precise instructions. The wife had added on a last minute request for digestive biscuits so she was there before me, trolley blocking the appropriate shelf. Ditto at the 'single cream' shelf and again at that corner of the veggies where the least popular organic items are concealed from the casual glance of the browsing passerby. I thought I should escape her at the '9 items' checkout but just as I was there I realised that I had at least 11, including the newspaper round for the neighbour and the middle daughter .
I rushed to the shortest queue, just beating a triumverate of VRAMs (Very retired ancient males) one of whom was in the opening stages of heart failure, so no contest really-to find I was immediately behind my tormenter-the VRAM's prevented retreat with their three trolleys forming a permanent road block behind me. She then proceeded to check out very very slowly, packing her bags with minute attention to detail, like items packaged together, fumbling for her purse, paying out in small coins, counted out one by one, lingering for some choice irrelevant comments (made to the check out lady) on the weather for the coming twelve months and moving out of my way only after a backwards glance of pure malice. I rushed past her in case she knew my car to block with her trolley leaving two of the three VRAMs administering to the third.
It was when I got home I found that in my fluster and irritation that I had managed to acquire all the newspapers except our own.
