Shopping for one
Text # 4
Shopping for One
Anne Cassidy
'So what did you say?’ Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.
‘Well,’ the darker woman began, ‘I said I’m not having that woman there. I don’t see why I should. I mean I’m not being old-fashioned hut I don’t see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...’ Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into silence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.
Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn’t go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and "special offer" drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of' tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it – she’d just have to wait.
‘After all,’ the dark woman resumed her conversation, ‘how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.
Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn’t sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.
‘He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.
‘On his hands and knees,’ the dark woman spoke in a triumphant voice. ‘Begged me take him back.'
She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She’d lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.
‘You can always tell a person by their shopping,’ was one
Shopping for One
Anne Cassidy
'So what did you say?’ Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.
‘Well,’ the darker woman began, ‘I said I’m not having that woman there. I don’t see why I should. I mean I’m not being old-fashioned hut I don’t see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...’ Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into silence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.
Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn’t go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and "special offer" drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of' tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it – she’d just have to wait.
‘After all,’ the dark woman resumed her conversation, ‘how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.
Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn’t sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.
‘He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.
‘On his hands and knees,’ the dark woman spoke in a triumphant voice. ‘Begged me take him back.'
She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She’d lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.
‘You can always tell a person by their shopping,’ was one