I dislike shopping in big supermarkets; there are too many people pacing beneath the headache of artificial light, confused, as once again, the store layout has been altered. These stores are designed to confused you; have you ever wandered why store layouts aren’t displayed on a map? Stores want you to wander the aisles like a zombie, lost and stressed because, in this state, you are wonderfully receptive to big brand advertising and ‘aspirational’ products.
You may as well tear up your shopping list and spend spend spend. After all, anything becomes aspirational when you’re in Tesco.
Shopping at midnight is my solution. No one gets in your way; you can run through the store or dance in the aisles, making light of this fucked up shopping ‘experience’. And staff will help you at midnight because they too have space to be an individual.
The biggest perk of my midnight shop - my perverse delight - is that I can steal away to the trolley shelter, unseen. For me, there is nothing more satisfying than taking an abandoned shopping list from the discarded trolley.
As I hungrily read, the grammar police translate its abbreviated contents. Blech becomes bleach and evap becomes evaporated milk. "Ah", I realise, "they mean Mr Muscle". I wonder if this person is fat or thin. I already know they keep the house clean. And once I scratch the surface, I need to delve deeper. As I stroll to the blender aisle I wander if I am walking in their footsteps. And as I contemplate whether the crossed out D John is an abbreviation of johnny’s or dijon mustard I ask: "why do they want four tins of tuna? Are they on a health kick? Do they pamper their pussy with real fish?"
Who wrote this list? Was it you?