Nothing's good about shopping. The prices are up. Christmas is coming.
Other shoppers are revolting. Shoppers travelling on buses are revolting especially the one who hacked up a lung behind my right ear. Especially the other two who discussed in very loud voices how many of their budgies had died over the last five years. One was on her way to buy another feathered sacrifice, in my opinion they both should have had their licence to own anything living revoked. A good thing she hadn't already bought it or the lunghacker would have germed to death.
I was ready for the usual problems with the trolley but today I got one that moved smoothly with the wheels doing everything asked of them. I didn't ask them to go sideways and fall down the crack where the lift doors open. Lift, heave, swear and run into the little old lady in the wheelchair. "No problem, dear," she says. "You're having the same kind of day I am. Do you see the bruises on my neck?" Good Lord, she looked like someone who'd been hanging around in a Clint Eastwood movie. "I tripped this morning and strangled myself with my dressing gown belt." Dum de dum dah!! I was just about to check my "what would Jane Marple do?" wristband when I caught the eye of the chair wheeler. Instantly I recognised those eyes, we were kindred souls. Another member of the Victorian Order of Spinster Daughters and Chair Wheelers. That "God only knows what she really did" look was better than a Masonic handshake.
The only good thing, two good things really, my blood pressure apparently isn't high enough to cause a stroke (yet) and my weight hasn't soared as much as I thought, only put on one kilogram. Popped into the Bohemian Pastry shop to celebrate. No almond croissants, I had to make do with a coffee iced confection loaded with coffee and chocolate cream. I hate having to make do. One should never disappoint one's stomach.