Sally-part 115. THREATENED WITH DEATH IN OBAN

THE DAY I WAS NEARLY MURDERED IN OBAN !


The car was right down on it's springs as we lurched into Oban, laden with enough food to feed an army for a month let alone just ourselves for a week but we still had more to get and with ONLY three hours to go before the ferry left Shirley was in a panic to get into Tescos with both of us pushing trolleys !

Now I seriously HATE shopping and HATE it even more if I have to do it with Shirley !

On my own, I'm a whirlwind with my list marked up to show which items are likely to be grouped in which aisles before I rush round missing almost everything I've been after and ordered NOT to forget, having to dash back ten alleys for a packet of mint tea and rapidly becoming exasperated !

Then my shouting down an aisle for help from a non-existent shop assistant starts and at heaven to give me strength and then the deliberate crashing of my trolley into those infuriating wheelchair-adapted trolleys which grind their way painfully slowly along the aisles, poorly manhandled by idiots who can't reach anything anyway and hardly have the strength to wheel themselves let alone a trolley with eight two litre bottles of Lucozade and five of Irn Bru, a white loaf and a packet of bacon in it !

Once I'm really wound up I start having face-offs with those menaces in their own electric 'mobility' scooters who, perfectly able to walk unaided but too lazy to, swoop along at speeds regardless of the safety of others, coming to a neck-snapping dead stop so that their lazy and able-bodied drivers can leap up and grab whatever it is they want before jumping back onboard and tearing off to the next block !

These infernal things are now thankfully banned in Benidorm, not that I spend any time there but MIGHT just move there now that I know this !

And don't get me started on those grossly fat people who, exhausted by burning the energy required to simply rasp enough air into their lungs to get them on their feet then hoist their distended bellies over the trolley handle and into the child-seat space before taking the weight of their hippopotomas-sized shoulders on their elbows which resting on the handle edges then exert such downward pressure on the rear wheels that it breaks the bearings and ruins the trolleys for us mere mortals !

And whatever mountain of unhealthy options they buy, they too top it all off with multi-packs of Coca Cola or it's cheaper supermarket alternatives and blame their grossness on their hormones !

Now where was I ? Ah yes , shopping with Shirley !

If Shirley was King and didn't spend ten hours ordering her shopping on the internet, the world of shopping would run like clockwork !

There would be no idling in front of luscious displays of exotic fruits or lingering at the Haagen Daas fridge or salivating at the delicatessen counter !

Actually I generally just dawdle, yawning and staring at other women, apparently with some kind of sickening 'Gay' smile fixed on my face !

What on earth is a 'Gay' smile Shirley ?

No, shopping would become a regimented, hated thing that had to be got through as quickly as possible with utilitarian products flung rapidly into the trolley without breaking step UNTIL the Lemon Drizzle Cake section where all would grind to a halt and ten perfectly good cakes would be removed from the shelf (and NEVER replaced tidily unless I do it!) so that the one at the back with the longest date and hopefully untouched by the great unwashed could be minutely examined and selected !

Of course ! I've nearly forgotten to mention the barked instruction, "If you see anything you want put it in the trolley cos I can't read your mind and you can put that back cos you're not wasting money on Cadburys double chocolate eclairs when Tescos do their own cheap version in a multi-bag!"

And THEN to the checkout !

Whichever one I choose WILL be the wrong one !

As, for example happened in Oban where I selected the one with no customers and a jolly looking fat assistant !

After our long and tiring journey I knew that Shirley would be slightly less patient than usual and I rapidly and as quietly as possible transferred the mountain of products to the counter ready to rush to her side once the scanning had occured and she'd corrected the cashier who'd not noticed the 'REDUCED' sign on one of the multitude of 'REDUCED' items, to take from her the instantly packed carriers which had to be stacked in exactly the right way so as not to crush her cake !

The jolly looking fat assistant failed to read the warning signs and pleasently remarked on something inane !

Shirley, normally reticent with strangers said something about the journey and the lack of sleep she'd had worrying about the ferry and food and I chipped in about her regular nightmare of being murdered by a man wearing a clown suit sitting on her chest !

Unfortunately I had no idea that the cashier was the world's foremost expert on 'Sleep Paralysis' which according to her spiritualist beliefs had something to do with the soul leaving the body and then returning to it !

I sensed that Shirley would have preferred to simply pack and slap her and me round the face before getting out rather than have to listen to the woman's twaddle but there was little chance of escape for ten minutes or more !

Back in the car I was threatened with being murdered if I even looked at a cashier again and I have since spent three days being told to NEVER EVER say a word to ANYONE else in public when she is there!

EVER !

This tale has been long enough without my mentioning what happens when the Tesco's van man dares to deliver a 'short date' on an item and Shirley has to phone South Africa to complain !