Occasional Scribbles

September, the beginning of Autumn and all that misty, mellow fruitfulness has not got off to a good start.  The 1st was the beginning of the new school term, only it wasn’t; it was a ‘designated non-pupil day’ according to the school calendar.

So the new school term actually started on the 2nd.  It was teeming down with rain and the skies were a thunderous gun metal gray to match our mood.  It did not augre well.  It’s bad enough that The Teen now has to study for the absurd GCSE’s he will take in two years time and has to attend school to do so, but to have to go back on such a miserable day was depressing. Shool is not my favourite place.  I’m not comfortable with term time; all those anxious mornings getting there on time, worrying about whether the Teen is working sufficiently hard and behaving himself.  I find it a bit of a fraught time and I don’t like the restrictiveness of having to collect him at the same time each day.  I know I will be fine in a few days, when the routine has settled down again and the P.E. kit materialises from the depth of wherever I put it at the end of the last term.  So far it has gone A.W.O.L.

The 3rd of September started much better with bright sunshine as if the skies, having been suitably stern were now being kind and cheerful just to balance things.  I pop into the supermarket for a couple of bits I need and some supper.  I am not too pleased with the supermarket as you can see here.  But not one to hold a grudge, I whiz around grabbing the few bits I need and pop them into a basket.  All is going well, though they are still a bit slow with getting certain items of stock that I have been waiting for.

I decide to pay at the till where the cigarettes can be bought and where I can get a top up for my phone and buy the paper so I can pay for everything together.  I shove my basket on the counter and note that one of the sour faces is operating this till.  Immediately she tells me I have more than 10 items and so she ‘can’t do it’ for me.  Now we all know that the 10 item rule on this till is a flexible arrangement designed to stop selfish people from causing a queue with large amounts of shopping, but staff can use their innitiative, if they have any.  It is essentially for buying cigarettes, lottery tickets, magazines and a few groceries – hand baskets only.  There is nothing wrong with this rule.  However, today, there is no one behind me and the rest of the store is empty.  Till staff are milling around, chatting to each other with no one to serve.  I point this out to sour face but she is adamant, ‘sorry, it’s 10 items only on this till, I can’t do it’ she says with beligerance.  I explain that I want to buy cigarettes, a paper and a topup and wish to pay for everything together. She won’t budge.  What a stupid cow.  I can tell she is relishing her authority.  I decide not to argue, I won’t give her the satisfaction of raising my voice minutely as she will report me for ‘abusing’ staff.

I heave my basket onto one of the main tills and count out with exagerated precision the shopping, there are 14 items.  The lad on this one, knows me, he’s a nice lad. He would never refuse to allow me to buy alcahol with my children in tow, as happened on another occasion. Seeing my bright red face and strange counting behaviour, he asks what’s wrong.  I explain.  “You should have refused, just stood there” he suggests.  “She wasn’t going to budge, you know” I say.  “Well, next time, take out half the shopping and put it in another basket and pay for it in two lots – there’s nothing she can do about that”, he says triumphantly.  I agree with him and wished I’d thought of it myself.  “She used to live down the road from me you know”, I say.  “She used to be my school cleaner” he chuckles.  We both chuckle.  It’s nice to have a friendly ally in the obdurate world of the supermarket.  

I wonder what the 4th of September will be like.