Partly due to inadequate management
on the home front Huttonian had to brave Sir Morrisons** with three shopping days to Christmas and all that entails. It was even worse than I feared with the aisles packed with stationary traffic snarled up by large people exchanging Christmas greetings. 'All set for the Festivities?' brightly enquired one lady of a gnarled old countryman Barbour jacketed and wellie* booted. 'If I was' he snarled 'I wouldn't be wasting my something time in this something store. Would I?' At that moment my basket slightly bumped the backside of a very very old woman. 'So sorry' I said automatically. She turned, gave me a very hard look and then broke into convulsive cackles 'I didn't mind it at all' she screamed drowning even the Morrison Tannoy with its latest irresistible offer. I fled -difficult in that mass of bodies and some how seemed to come across the cackling one in every aisle. Each encounter, she chuckled-'She really fancies you' said the GOC , his good humour momentarily restored. I finally eluded her pursuit and hid my self in the basket only checkout. Suddenly I was nudged by some thing sharp and metallic and a voice in my ear said 'Would love to join you but I have a trolley' A final cackle, and she disappeared from my life.
For that relief much thanks
* Spellchecker suggests Willie for Wellie. That too one assumes
** Spell checker suggests 'nourishing' for 'Morrisons' Hmm.