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Saturday.

I definitely do not like Saturdays. Shopping for the weekend is always a problem. It seems as if the entire world have to shop on Saturdays. I walk around the shopping centre what do you know once again everything has been moved around. The only things that do not really change are the deep frozen foods this area is built in and they can only move the deep frozen foods from one window to the other. Is it me or have the prices gone up again last week the butter was only one euro twenty cents today it is two euro’s. Must they have a beer sale on Fridays and Saturdays? I see people with six or more crates of beer; who drinks so much beer I ask myself? In fact I am beginning to think that many people live on beer at least on the beer sale weekends.

At last I have found the tins of corned beef hidden away behind tins of spam. Why do they have to hide the corned beef don’t they want people to buy it? They have a cheese sale on again two or three shop assistants walk around with small squares of cheese. For the fifth time I have said no thank you cheese does not agree with me. I hate people pushing things into my face asking if I would like to try what I do not want. The little old lady pushing the shopping trolley in one hand tightly clutched her purse. Her trolley is one of those where the wheels seem to have a life of their own one wheel goes to the right and the other runs in circles. The lady stops at the fish counter she wants a small piece of cod. I watch as the shop assistant cuts off a piece of cod. Much too big for the little old lady she only wants a small piece. The assistant is not happy and I wondered if she was paid to give people more than they asked for.

Thank goodness I have found the section where bread and buns, cakes and other sweet gooey pasties are sold. I buy a small loaf when one assistant calls to me and tells me that the larger loaves are cheaper. I do want a large loaf or I would have asked for one. Why is she trying to sell me something that I do not want? Unwillingly she places the small loaf in a paper bag I move on to the pay counters. As usual long lines of people each with a shopping trolley all waiting to pay for what they have taken from the shelves of the store. I weigh up my chances shall I just join the first line at the first pay desk or shall I edge my way to one of the other lines of people waiting to pay for their goods. There are not so many people with trolleys loaded with beer crates in the first line so I patiently join the queue. What is the hold up? Oh! No another woman with a credit card she has forgotten her credit card number. I watch as she tries one card after the other. Finally a credit card that allows her to pay for what she has in her trolley. Slowly the line moves forward. My legs are aching I want a cup of tea. Will I ever get to the pay desk? Then it is my turn. I place my groceries on the moving belt. Grabbing one of the small dividers I place it so that the person after me can start to put her groceries on the moving belt. The woman at the pay desk says, “Good Morning,” and grabs my carefully laid goods pushing them over the automatic as if they were red hot. My groceries land in a haphazard pile at the end of the cash desk. I take out my wallet and pay for my goods. I carefully place the goods back into the trolley I hear the words thank you for your custom as I walk to the shelving where I can load my groceries into the shopping bags that I always use when shopping. I wait in the queue at the bus stop the groceries getting heavier and heavier. At last the bus arrives no room downstairs I must drag my old body up the twisted flight of steps to the upper deck. Thank goodness there is a seat free. Sinking into the hard seat I patiently wait for the bus to turn into my street where I manage to walk down the twisting steps. Getting off the bus is also a small problem especially with a bag of shopping. Opening the front door I walk down the passage the shopping getting heavier and heavier with each slow step. I sit down in my armchair leaving the shopping on the kitchen table. It will have to wait until I get over my tiredness. I hate Saturdays. Bern