Intrepid Optimist is the place where I can share my stories; fact, fiction and thoughts from the past and present. It’s Written by myself for people who believe adventure knows no age
How fresh and sparkling everything looked. Even the staff were friendlier than normal and the customers politer. He skipped the diet shelves. It was marvellous just to be browsing through the racks and fridges, full of all those lovely fattening things without feeling guilty. But he was not in the supermarket to browse; He was there to spend. The veggies looked so fresh. Dazzling yellow, bright green, brilliant red peppers and delicious looking, juicy tomatoes. Even the potatoes seemed content. He filled the trolley. Butter, yes, the real Irish stuff. Sugar coated, corn flakes. Yoghurt – no thank you. Duck pate – scrumptious. A couple of those crusty baguettes and a tub of his favourite bourbon vanilla, ice cream. He almost forgets the wine. The selection was awesome, How come he had never noticed that before? He chooses two bottles of the Hessen Gruaburgunder. Two hell with it, he laughed and grabbed two quality Beaujolais as well. Everyone was so nice and friendly today. He felt as though he could shout out on top of his voice, ‘Hello everybody. Look at me, I’m engaged. I’m getting married.’
He should have known that it could not last, but the foolish woman could at the very least, have told him to his face. No, she Whatsapped him! It’s Friday and here he is queuing at the fish counter and, cling-a-ling, she’s informing him that it’s not going to work. The assistant hears his protestations but he puts on a brave face. Pointing to the gaping mouth of a monkfish, he tells her that is how his now ex-fiance looked. Her laughter helps for a moment but he cannot decide which fish to buy. They looked grey. It seems as though the lights in the supermarket have suddenly been turned down. Aimlessly he pushes the squeaking trolley up one gloomy aisle and down the next one. The sight of boxes of half-priced strawberry’s somehow sickens him. He stares vacantly at a shelf full of Ecuadorian bananas until an old woman pushes him brusquely to one side. He refuses the offer of a sample piece of orange cheese on a toothpick. “ It is free you know.” Sneers the sale’s girl. A couple of hoodies push his trolley against a showcase. No apologies. They look just as lost and dejected as he feels. He joins the long queue at the cash desk. He had no real need for the cauliflower and the jar of marmalade, staring at him from the bottom of the metal basket. A youth in front of him realizes he has forgotten something and orders him to keep his place free while he rushes off, coming back minutes later with a frozen Pizza. The man behind, standing too close make him feels unreasonably uncomfortable.. He discovers he does not have enough cash with him. The cashier raises her eyes disdainfully, waiting while he fumbles to get his credit card from out of his wallet. On leaving the manager holds the door open for me. “Have a nice weekend Sir. Outside it is raining.
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