I have been totally bundled out of my comfort zone today. I couldn’t cope with the wandering and constant questions so I decided, as it was a gorgeous day, I’d get out of the house and down to the seafront. I don’t like going out too much because, in all honesty, I don’t like people.
My oh my, what a disparate cross-section of humanity is out and about at lunch time. There are hundreds, literally hundreds, of people in those motorised buggy things. I'm convinced that half of these people can walk but are just too fucking fat to bother. People who have driven there with a thermos and some sandwiches but never leave the car. Young lads sat in their cars with no windows open, going for the full Cheech and Chong experience. Huge people on bikes, joggers and power walkers. The last lot piss me off, just because you move your arms like you’re running a sprint doesn’t mean you are! It makes your arse look strange, like you are chewing a toffee with your sphincter. Stop it!
There are the bedsit people who have to be out of the house between 9am and 4pm and the obligatory piss heads. I was serenaded by one and almost got flashed, but he managed to get the old chap away in time.
The second affront to my comfort zone was having to go into Somerfield. Just by walking through the door I lowered the average age by 30 years. The automatic doors should have tipped me the wink, they opened so slowly I got wedged for a couple of seconds. The sensor must be assuming that it has a good thirty seconds before the octogenarians reach them.
Inside I was confronted with the slow moving mass of plastic hips, headscarves, orthopaedic footwear and tartan things on wheels. New Rule, if you have any kind of walking aid, you can’t have the trolley. One or the other, you take up too much room.
Next, I was overwhelmed by the baffling array of biscuits. I used my ‘phone a friend’ option and got outside help on that one.
The ‘Nutty Daddy’ gave his handler the slip this afternoon and I found him on the street trying car door handles. Geriatric Twocker! All he needed was a hoodie, he had a cap and gloves on. I coaxed him back indoors with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, but he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. Now he is roaming the house looking for a cupboard that doesn't exist. It is at his other daughter's house. He also thinks it would be a good idea for the ceilings to be 'up', apparently they 'look better up there'.
I'm inclined to agree.
6 comments:
They are always complaining they don't sleep. The 24hr Tesco is fucking ideal for them.
They form human barriers at the 'reduced' section and use jumble sale techniques to keep the rest of us cheap-skates away!
It smells funny in the Post Office. I don't like it!
Somerfield, wow, I've never been in there, don't even know where it is in fact. The place to go to avoid other humans - or whatever beings it is that go to Somerfield, is to shop at the Marie Celeste Sainsburys, the one out the bumhole end of Commercial Road. If there are two other people in there ever, then it's crowded. In fact, since I left Pompey it has prolly had to close down.
I think Somerfield is a pimped up Coop!
It's not as bad as Tesco, Albert Rd.
At least the checkout staff don't add up your shopping BEFORE they put it through the scanner, a la 'Rainman Dave'!
Oh I've written a story based partly on Tesco's in Albert road. I'm in the middle of re-writing it so I guess I should boot m'self up the jacksie and get on with it.
I couldn’t agree more with you all. Every time I go into the post office after work the place is heaving with old timers. WHY OH WHY do they wait until the END of the day!!! As Dave Allen put it: 'it makes me feel like ripping out their pubes, knitting a scarf and strangling the bastards with it"!!!!!!
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