Tag Archives: groceries

589. Graeme does the shopping

© Bruce Goodman 22 May 2015

589keys

Trying to carry too many grocery bags (he should’ve used a trolley) Graeme somehow reached into his pocket to find the car keys.

He dropped the keys just as he was standing over a storm water grate. The keys plummeted down into the murky water.

He would phone his wife, Vera, but the phone was locked in the car.

The weather was hot. The frozen meat was defrosting; the ice cream was melting. Graeme put the bags of groceries on the ground next to the car. He burst into tears. It was the first time he had wept for years.

The truth was, his phone wasn’t in the car. It was in his pocket. He couldn’t phone his wife because she had walked out on him that morning. She’d taken the kids. That’s why he was doing the shopping on his own. Usually they went shopping together. He hoped she was alright.

A passer-by asked if anything was wrong.

“No, no, I’m fine thanks,” said Graeme.

But he wasn’t alright, was he? He was bloody terrible. He phoned the Automobile Association. They came and fixed up the car key problem.

Graeme drove home to the empty house.

547. A question of habit

547purse

Louisa lived about an hour’s drive from the shops. There were four mouths to feed, and she would go into town every second Monday and get two weeks’ supply of groceries.

Today was different. It was only Thursday of the first week, but Mr and Mrs Higgins were coming for dinner tomorrow evening. A special trip to town was required. Louisa made a list of what was needed. Thank goodness she remembered to take the list. She’d left it sitting on the kitchen bench, and was just driving out her gate when she remembered she hadn’t got it with her. Lucky save!

Upon arrival at the supermarket, she got a large trolley and spent ages selecting the ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner. She read the packets of things, and went from soup packets to sauce packets and back. Things had to be just right. Well, things didn’t HAVE to be “just right”, but Louisa wanted it to be nice.

The trolley was piled with stuff. The shop assistant scanned them. And behold! Louisa’s purse had been stolen. She’d had it sitting in the trolley as she always did. There was no way she could pay for her groceries.

She contacted her Bank and cancelled her cards. She contacted the Police. The Police took down her details, including her mother-in-law’s maiden name, which seemed to be really important information for the recovery of her purse.

It took all day, and in the end, Louisa drove home grocery-less and in the foulest mood possible.

Her husband was home from work. And there, sitting on the kitchen bench, was her purse. She’d left it behind when she came back to pick up the grocery list.

317. Phillip pushes the trolley

317trolley

Rachel did the weekly grocery shopping on her own. Every Saturday. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year. Husband, Phillip, stayed at home and watched the horse races on television.

“You could at least come and help push the supermarket trolley,” complained Rachel. So he did.

“Look at the price of those bananas,” said Phillip. “It’s enough to make you go bananas.”

“Look at that fruit cake buying a cake over there at the cake stall.”

“That woman at the fruit stand’s a bit of a peach. Nice pear she’s got.”

“The fruit department manager’s got it easy. Bit of a plum job.”

Rachel sighed. “Why don’t you just shut up and push the trolley,” she said.

“That woman there,” said Phillip, gesticulating towards the meat section, “is mutton dressed as lamb.”

“Something’s a bit fishy about the price of that salmon.”

“How much longer before we get out of this joint? We’re packed in here like sardines. I’m roasting.”

Rachel had had enough. “Oh for goodness sake!” she spluttered. “This is the last time I’m taking you shopping.”

It was exactly what Phillip intended.