Shopping Hell

Image Credit: austerityblog.com

Why grocery shopping is bad for your health (particularly on a Thursday in Morrisons):

I am scarred both physically and mentally.

I was abused by an elderly *ahem* gentleman because I was standing in front of the porridge oats deciding whether to go 'quick and easy' or 'instant' at precisely the same time as he wanted to get his box of traditional oats. The corners of said box of traditional oats are quite pointy I have discovered, especially when forcibly dragged along your forearm.

My patience has been tested to the extreme by waiting to manoeuvre up the aisles while other shoppers carefully consider whether to buy tinned plum tomatoes or tinned other tomatoes. Ironic really because I can guarantee that when the tin is opened they will mash them up to add a bit of excitement to their fried mince and onions and call it bolognese thereby negating any discernible difference between plum or other tomatoes anyway.

I had to wrestle the Wee One into the trolley because he was convinced the aisles are there solely for the purpose of racing up and down, and other shoppers and their trolleys were merely obstacles to swerve around sometimes successfully and other times not. Cue grunts from elderly shoppers who did not appreciate the entertainment.

The layout of the shop is ridiculous. I had to repeatedly fight my way up and down aisles because things are in the wrong place. Who in their right mind would put oxo and eggs on the same aisle? These people are just crazy. Why would mince beef be miles away from any other form of dead cow? Why would you have squash in one aisle and then be required walk to the other end of the shop to find juice after reconsidering the childrens nutritional needs? Honestly! Really?

I am also slightly stressed because I have bought castor sugar instead of icing sugar, the wrong flavour of dog food, no crisps, no stir fry vegetables, no toilet paper and chicken that has a short use by date.

Result:

£100 poorer.
Bruised shins (The Wee One).
Scratched arm (Me).
Semi-stocked fridge.
Semi-stocked cupboard.
Consumption of 2/3 of a pack of custard creams to recover.
Feel fat. And sick.
Another shopping trip needed.

And I have no idea what we can have for dinner tonight!

10 Questions

The origin of the Question Mark. Wikipedia.com

The origin of the Question Mark is from the latin 'quaestio' meaning to ask as illustrated above. Don't ever day that this blog isn't educational!

I like questions and I like question marks and I have been set the challenge by Motherventing to answer 10 questions. Not 9 or 11 but a nice round 10. Apparently I am supposed to be honest to reveal to my followers a little bit more about me so they can get to know me better. Thing is I am very shallow and there isn't a whole lot of interesting stuff to know.

Fortunately the questions are nice and shallow too. So without the aid of any swimming aids I can jump straight in.


Describe yourself in seven words.
Bad-tempered writer of the next best seller (hyphenated words count as one don't they?)

What keeps you awake at night?
The Wee One but fortunately not that often any more. I am blessed with the ability to sleep through all manner of stress.

If you could be anyone for a day, who would it be, and why?
I would like to be Orla Kiely on a day when she is designing and playing around with patterns and colours and handbags. Heavenly.

What are you wearing now?
My wedding ring, a bad haircut, clothes that Gok would frown at and an expression that says, what the hell!

What scares you?
Spiders, rats, cockroaches, and anything else that might make itself at home where I am and it should not be.

What is the best and worst thing about blogging?
I like that, as a blogger, I can write what I want, when I want and occasionally get my ego massaged by some lovely comments. The worst thing about blogging is how remote it is. I can't wait to meet some fellow bloggers IRL!

What was the last website you looked at?
Apart from Motherventing's blog obviously, I was ordering my shopping from Ocado. Sorry, very dull but hey, the family's got to eat.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Shave a few pounds off here and there and add a few to the bank balance would be a good start.

Slankets: yes or no?
I think I might be a closet slanket lover but I cannot quite bring myself to buy one. It sits along side a foot cosy on the shopping list. Both practical, warm and snuggly but not something you really want the Mr to see you in.

Tell us something about the people who tagged you?
Motherventing is my writing and blogging inspiration. I aspire to her greatness of the use of the english language and her ability to make people not just laugh, but laugh until they either cry or pee.

Now I need to hop over to the Super Amazing Mum's blog where all this started and leave a comment along with everyone else who has answered the 10 questions.

And tag someone, a deserving cause who is also taking part in NaBloPoMo (or National Blog Posting Month) where you write a blog post a day. By being tagged for this meme I didn't have to seek inspiration for today but tomorrow is another story!

So Cat at Yellow Days... over to you x

10 ways to start a war before breakfast

It's half term which can only mean one thing, frayed tempers!

And it doesn't take long for a temper to fray, in fact any time between waking and breakfast would do.

Wouldn't life be dull if there were no shouting or screaming between siblings. Heaven forbid. So just in case you are in danger of having a peaceful half term, here are my top 10 ways to start a war before breakfast.

1. Enter the room.
2. Try to brush their hair.
3. Ask them to do something. Anything.
4. Allow one child into bed with you.
5. Encourage them to brush their teeth.
6. Suggest that they might want to get dressed.
7. Ask what they would like to do today.
8. Offer one child something different to the others. Superior or inferior, it really doesn't matter.
9. Offer a choice of coloured cups. 
10. Fail to purchase a reserve box of cereal when you are down to one serving left in the packet.

Enjoy your half term.

Dear So and So - The Bad Tempered Edition

Dear Madam,

Because yes, you were a madam, an ignorant obnoxious madam who rightly deserved a very pointed "WELL EXCUSE ME!" when you took up the whole pavement and just stood there glaring at us when we, the stroppy woman pushing a pram, dragging a dog, nagging a boy and ignoring stroppy pre-schooler, were trying to maneuver along the narrow pavements. Funnily enough, you are not more important, more worthy or more superior than me, and do not own the rights to the pavement.

Yours, The stressy woman pushing a pram, dragging a dog, nagging a boy and ignoring stroppy pre-schooler.



Dear Sir,

You know when you saw the Princess having a strop in the middle of town, and you said "Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad.", and I grunted a bit, and then you said "Don't worry. Mummy will buy you some sweets." Well, as much as you thought your actions were well-meaning, they were not helpful.

Yours, The stressy woman pushing a pram, dragging a dog, nagging a boy and ignoring stroppy pre-schooler.



Dear Madam (2),

I know my pram was blocking the shop door. I know I was distracted by a rather lovely biscuit tin in the baking shop. I know it is normally customery to move out of the way if someone says 'Excuse me.'. But do you think the way you said ' Excuse me' with a heavy emphasis on the 'ME' with your hands thrown up in the air and a distinct air of huffiness is polite? No, me neither.

Yours, The woman who sarcastically said "Oh I am soooo sorry if I was in your way."



Dear Sir (2),

You know you work in a charity shop, where customers come to spend their money, so that the charity that you volunteer for can earn vital funds to support further research, fund hospices and pay nurses to care for the sick. Well, do you think that it was ever so slightly rude to push me out of the way and perhaps counterintuitive to rearrange the book shelves as I browsed them with the absolute intention of spending money in your charity shop? Just wondered.

Yours, The woman who muttered something about customer service as she huffed out of the shop.



Dear Charity Shop Volunteer,

No not the rude one who thinks alphabetising the book shelves is more important than selling books. The lovely one, in the next charity shop, who was so chatty and grateful for the donated childrens clothes. Thank you for restoring my faith in 'giving'.

Yours, The woman who smiled and complimented your customer service and will henceforth donate all her childrens cast offs to your charity.




Dear All,

I promise to try to be more patient and understanding and less bad tempered, if you do.

Yours, Me.




For more Dear So and So letters get over to 3 Bedroom Bungalow where she collects them :-)