Shopping Is Not A Leisure Pursuit

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Saturday

My kids love the weekend, especially Saturday. It's the day that there is no school and is also the furthest away from Monday. They usually have a lie in, the two older ones usually appear late morning by which time I have already begun my weekend 'off'. Finn sometimes manages to remain in bed til about 9 but rarely any later. I don't think I have had a genuine lie in a 'stay in bed until you have no option but to get up' for about 14 years, since just before Scarlett was born.

So I went and did my usual shopping tour including the butcher's, then the supermarket and finally the freezer store. I bloody hate shopping. When I was a teenager I loved Saturday trips into town to buy new shoes or clothes and when Paul and I were first married I loved the supermarket shop and after Scarlett was born, I found it enjoyable...now, like I say, I bloody hate it! I hate everything about it; the driving there, the other drivers who take up too much space on the car park or at the roadside, the people shopping at the same time and God forbid I should get a staff member who clearly doesn't want to be there, they tip me over the edge every time.

The butcher's was fine, they are all pretty efficient and serve you quickly. The supermarket was a different matter...it seemed that they were still stocking the shelves and it felt as though they hadn't got half of what I wanted and every time I asked a member of staff if they had whatever it was I needed they all had the same response, "We haven't unpacked it yet."

I stupidly didn't ask if they knew that they had what I was looking for and only realised my mistake when I returned to customer service before paying for my half empty trolley and was told that they hadn't. When I asked about the stuff they needed to unpack they explained that they, the store do not order their own stock, they simply just receive whatever is sent to them on the lorry. My mouth opened and closed several times but I wisely refused to allow words to leave it.

I was still fuming because my lack of shopping meant I was going to have no choice but to go to another supermarket to hopefully get what I was missing. I had thrown on yesterday's jeans, but a clean, if slightly creased t-shirt but I was unlikely to see anyone in the supermarket at 8 o'clock on a Saturday morning, was I? I decided to use the self-serve till because the manned tills, well the two that were open were busy. After about 7 minutes I still had most of my shopping on the belt and was waiting for assistance again because apparently it was too much to ask that the scales would weigh my bananas and that the scales beneath my shopping bags might detect the addition of my freshly scanned powdered sauce mixes and then the items it could detect were too heavy and needed checking. I was just about to throw something, not the three bottles of wine for a tenner or the crate of beer that was on special though when who should appear but Monique! She smiled a very tight smile at me, but when her smile grew I assumed she was relieved that my son and his clumsy, bruised legs, nor his poo covered trousers were with me. I was wrong, her smile was for me, at my expense, me in my creased top, yesterday's jeans, my barely tamed hair and the large amount of biscuits and booze that would undoubtedly require a staff member to authorise without checking my ID that made up my shopping! Happy bloody Saturday.

After the second supermarket trip I whizzed around the freezer shop thinking that the savings I made here were probably lost in petrol!

The thing I hate about shopping more than the actual shopping is the putting away. Paul helps me to carry the bags in from the car, but he considers that to be his contribution and then I get to put everything away. If I ask him to help he points out that there's no point because he will only put it in the wrong place and I concede to myself that he is right...I am very particular in these things.

Once it was all away the older children appear and immediately wanted breakfast as I planned the rest of my day which was basically washing, ironing, entertaining Finn, walking the dog and then cooking dinner. I promised myself by mid-afternoon that later I would do Finn's homework with him and possibly clean the bedrooms in order to reduce the amount of housework I'd have to do tomorrow. I lied to myself from the second the thought entered my head and by the time I was eating dinner, steak and chips and a bottle of wine I hadn't done any more housework than I had mid-afternoon and Finn's homework was a non-starter so at least tomorrow was sorted, but for tonight I intended to just read a little more of my old diary with a second glass of wine.

Victoria's Diary aged 13 and a half

I feel sick, like I am going to actually vomit because Steven is due for dinner, tea...I have tried to warn him not to call tea dinner in front of my Mum, she doesn't like it being called dinner, I just hope he remembers. My Mum was going to do a chop dinner but I have somehow talked her out of it because there is no way I can risk a flying chop across the table, plus my Dad cuts off what meat he can and then sucks the bones! My Mum has agreed to make a cottage pie which is quite safe.

Looking in the mirror at my third outfit in the last half an hour I was ready to change out of the above knee flouncy floral skirt and black vest top when the doorbell rang. I slipped on some pumps and almost fell down the stairs in order to get to the door before anyone else did. When I threw the door open I forgot where I was, flinging myself into Steven's arms until my brother came up behind me and smacked my bum. I squealed but Steven laughed, and my brother did, my Mum didn't when she appeared from the lounge to find us all in the hall.

By the time we sat down to eat Steven and I had not been left alone. Either my Mum, Dad or one of my brothers had been with us at all times. We all sat down to eat and Steven was placed opposite me so we couldn't even hold hands. My Dad was his usual jokey self and my brothers. My Mum isn't very jokey anyway but she was polite and asked Steven lots of questions about his family and where he lived before. Soon enough the conversation turned to school and our own careers. I said about being an air hostess again and watched as my Mum raised her eyebrows. My Dad smiled and told me I would be an asset to any airline and got a proper glare from my Mum for it. Her previously raised eyebrows almost disappeared when Steven said he was going to be an airline pilot. I was so impressed because unlike me who says I want to be he doesn't he says 'I am going to be'. That annoyed my Mum, in her mind that will make him cocky and conceited, but I know differently.

Steven is so, so lovely. He was really polite and even referred to dinner as tea when he complimented my Mum's cooking. We watched Top of the Pops and even though my Dad moaned all the way through that it wasn't real music and was just a 'bloody row' it was nice, but then Steven had to go. My Dad gave him a lift home, I went with him but couldn't get out of the car to kiss him goodnight. We went home and I went straight to bed which is where I am now. I really, really want to go to sleep so that when I wake up it will be morning and I will see Steven again and I'll be able to kiss him. I haven't kissed him since yesterday because he was on a school trip today, with PE. He probably won't be able to touch my boob or anything because we're at school but I am good with kissing, I have missed kissing him so much today. I am going to sleep now thinking of kissing Steven.

Victoria's Diary aged 35 and a half

By the time I go to bed I have sunk a full bottle of wine and am far too giggly for my own good, especially having read what might be turning into my 'kissing Steven diary'. I am giggly enough that if Paul so much as rolls over in bed too quickly I am going to assume he is coming onto me. Although I know that if I 'pounce' tonight I will only be encouraging him to consider his favoured Sunday morning slow seduction that I will be in no position to consider tomorrow. The problem there is that after a whole bottle of wine to buoy me on tonight I will think it's the best idea I have ever heard because right now I am a goddess!


Diary of a Desperate Wife and Mother - aged 35...and a halfWhere stories live. Discover now