It's Monday! It's Grocery shopping day!
On a good day, I like flirting with shop assistants.
Not just shop assistants, also Post Office people, and supermarket cashiers. Policemen. The nice man at the newsagents. Unfortunately bus drivers are now walled behind a security screen and therefore not as approachable as they used to. On a good day, I like waltzing into the shop. On a good day, I will smile and make small talk as I pocket my change. On a good day I will be effusively grateful about the quality of service. Good days make up for the fact that
ordinary life is indeed pretty complicated stuff.

After waltzing into Sainsbury’s, I stood in the shampoo aisle for a good ten minutes; which one to buy? I patted my hair, wondering if the ‘for limp, sad hair’ diagnosis should apply to me; I sniggered at the promise of ‘beach hair all day – for that surfers’ messed up look, all day’. I made a face at the rotten fruit smell of herbal essence – that’s the one with the idiotic advert of the woman shampooing her hair with orgasmic cries in a court of law. I don’t think I would have bought if even if I’d liked the smell, given how much I resent that advert. In the end I picked the shampoo that offered to get my hair clean. I could hear at the back of my head my grandmother’s voice claiming to add a few drops of bleach to a pail of water – and presto, all purpose body and hair cleaner.
Really, she does. And she still has hair.

The woman in front of me in the queue had turned inside out her regulation Sainsbury’s shopping bag; it’s probably uncool to walk around with a bright orange Sainsbury’s bag. I have one. Shouldn’t that be enough to make it cool?

I really don’t have a point today.