Life for Lola

Went to Tesco last night to do a big shop. The Ladyfriend has begun to keep peculiar hours because of her new job so, in a fit of organisation, I decided to buy food for the week. I had a collosal trolley. It was not out of choice, all the nippy brief shopper trolleys were gone and I was left with a vast skip of a thing. It had a section for flowers, shopping lists, environmental boxes and triplets. It was a bit strenuous on the old back putting my consumables in and out. I had to stand on tippy toe to make sure the eggs were safe.

I had had a bit of good news at work, we had all been given a 300 quid bonus as part of a profit share thing so I pushed the boat out. I picked nice long peppers, rare breed eggs, organic everything, a big corn fed organic chicken, that will do for Thursday's tea I thought. Anyway, happy with my shopping I went up to the shop girls and put my stuff on the conveyor belt. I stood waiting for the lady infront. I looked at her shopping and I felt awful. She had economy blue stripe everything. She didn't look common, just down on her luck a bit. Her hair looked lank and she looked at my shopping and I could tell she was embarrassed about hers. I felt rotten.

She was taking a bit of time putting her stuff back into her purse and the girl on the till fiddled with the plastic bags. "Don't wait for me" said the lady as if she didn't matter. I wanted to whisk her away and treat her to a slap up tea and get her hair done right there and then I was so sad for her. She slipped off into the night with her little blue stripe supper leaving me feeling awful with my lollo rosso.