Craic On

His suspicions aroused by the large quantity of bleach nestled behind my loo, my friend Dan asked me if I was planning to make a bomb.  I was not, but it got me thinking about the reason why and how I approach my rare trips to the supermarket. The thing about shopping, if you can’t see, is that nothing is done on spec (excuse the word play) because you are going to have to carry it home. A Buy One Get One Free offer is all very well, but what if it’s a forty-minute wait for a cab or you end up having to walk? At the supermarket, I’m the woman with the enormous trolley stacked high with loo roll, dishwasher salt and laundry soap. While I might shop like a polygamist with two dozen children at home, I’m simply taking advantage of some nice person who has offered me a lift to the supermarket and who has the space to spare in their car, for me to cram it with stuff that I don’t want to have to carry on my back because it’s heavy. If I’m not to queer my pitch with my host driver, by keeping them waiting,