I had already lost Dave by the frozen chicken and so had to face the horrors of this Saturday afternoon queue all by myself. It was so far back that when I joined it I was in line with the Spanish Shiraz.
Children crying and goth women clutching babies, I prepared myself for an uncomfortable queue.
But actually it was all rather grand. There was that Blitz attitude of we’re all in it together, with teenagers cheerfully squeezing babies feet and old women taking a cavalier attitude to their shopping by pushing it along with their foot.
I followed suit and left happy despite the rain and forgot all about Dave. Five minutes later when I was in More for L£ss I got the following text from him:
This is a most worrysome place. i believe im in a que. As 4 what ive no idea.
