Parcel Tongue Mother

We we’re out buying some groceries, Stephen and I, and I was head down checking out the pot noodle which were on special, and since we were buying supplies for our son to take back to university with him, I was gathering several. 

As I was looking for another Smoky Bacon to make the 2 for 1 deal, I heard someone saying my name…or rather hissing it to be more accurate. I wondered if I had suddenly entered Harry Potter’s world and that I was a Parcel Tongue and that a large python was somewhere hiding, calling to me. I turned about expecting to see a Basilisk only to see that it was actually my husband hissing to me from the checkout counter. He had our half-filled basket of groceries lined up on the conveyer belt and it was his turn. The other shoppers behind him turned to look at me impatiently with their accusing stares. Stephen would have figured that if he lost me quickly, then ran hurriedly along to the check-out that I wouldn’t be able to put any more items into my basket. Very clever man. He should write a book, titled, ‘How not to spend anything whilst she’s shopping’. But you see, I have grown up with one of these clever men – my own, dear father tried every trick in the book with Mum, though none of them really ever worked. He would end up refusing to enter the shop, and wait crossly outside, hopping from foot to foot, grumbling when Mum would eventually saunter out.

So, when I saw my own shop-avoiding husband there at the checkout, I waved happily at him and disappeared up another aisle leaving him to it. I gathered slightly more groceries than I intended and told him how much easier the shopping had been with him already outside. He said, (as he often loves to be able to say), “One minute you were there, and the next you’d gone.” He was very cross that his plan did not work.

“Well,” said I in mock-surprise, “One minute YOU were in front of me, and after a long time I noticed you’d gone off…but did you see me hissing, or running off to the check-out before you were ready?”  

He  said nothing, but grumbled some more as we set off to the car.

 

Another time we were in a large supermarket and I took our daughter to the toilets before shopping to wash her sticky hands and was gone for approximately 3 minutes. By the time we’d caught up with my husband and sons they were in the second last aisle! When we’re shopping, he frequently loses me, and when I catch sight of him, he’s looking around really crossly, and I KNOW what he is thinking – “Geeeeez…where has she gone now??” It wouldn’t enter his head that HE might be the one getting lost all the time and that he’s actually barged off away from wherever I am?? The old people that you see shopping happily together are a hallucination induced by women wishing that their men could relax while shopping.  Oh, and this article is NOT about shopping in B & Q, Motor World , Halfords, Wickes, any Newsagents or Ikea. The men like those shops.

 

Moral to the story: Leave the men at home whilst shopping, or send them off with a list.

 

PS – Secretly I loathe shopping almost as much as housework…and am probably a big disgrace to Women of the Shopping World, to my sisters – all of whom adore shopping. I would much rather be a shepherd…(with my laptop, notebook, pen, sketch pad and sharp pencil of course).

 

 

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