Shopping at our local supermarket is a weekly ordeal. My wife has a propensity, clearly not a unique one, for talking to people who she comes across in the store. When I have heard the same story 5 times and heard in response about the latest visit to hospital there is the search for bargains.
Penny off here, 5p off there, buy one get another one you don't want at half price. The lettuce leaves need to be examined, the potatoes scrutinised, the fruit considered in considerable detail.
Then there is the trolly traffic. No one needs a licence. There are men on their own shooting round the store bumping into everyone as if they were at dodgems, the ladies - before mentioned - who like to exchange stories whilst blocking the passage of everyone else, the shelf fillers who almost block the whole space between shelves.
Then there is that Arsenal fan. Your friend from No 1. There is a feigned pity on his face - so I see you lost again, it must be hard suporting West Ham.
I know what it feels like to get charity from Oxfam. The only good time is when Arsenal beat Spurs. But still they moan! Being at the bottom looking up creates understandable envy, but they still complain just as much as I do!
Finaly there is the queue to have the pleasure of paying for all your selections. The race to get the items into bags before they pile so high you cannot reach the top. The search for your debit card and loyalty card and card for parking and special offer tickets.
Finally you pay. Your code remembered! But your card left behind. The sympathy: 'Poor old Git. Supports West Ham - the stress is causing premature ageing!'
Just one thing to be thankful for. Saints will bury me..