Supermarket Sweep

We got a surprise letter this week to say that Ian had been paid 24 glorious post-tithe pounds for holiday pay from his temporary job that he did for not even 3 weeks last year. Since it was holiday pay, we decided to spend it on something enjoyable rather than crediting it towards something boring like rent.

We were therefore faced with a difficult choice. Do we use it to see Munich, the new Spielberg movie, therefore gaining a renowned director’s perspective on the human side of a significant historical and social event? Do we use it to sample some strange new cuisine in a rare opportunity to visit one of the region’s many excellent restaurants? Or do we blow it all on snacks? A complex and thought-provoking conundrum, but we went with the obvious answer for a couple of our intellectual and culturally attuned prowess. Snacks.

We made it to the supermarket with 24 minutes to go until closing. 24 minutes, 24 pounds. It was like winning a major award, a wild shopping spree! What, you may very well ask, did we buy? What would you buy if faced with the same pressurized situation?

Kristy headed directly for the Innocent Strawberry and Banana smoothie. Ian tossed in some hot cross buns from the bakery. We made our way through the store with uncanny swiftness and agility as if we had a premeditated dream snack list prepared months in advance. We took it in turns to venture into new and exciting territory; the bakery’s lethal array of tempting desserts, the potato chip isle (Ian’s promised land), and mysterious isle 9, shrouded in mystery and superstition, an isle to which neither of us had previously dared to venture. The snack isle. Strawberries, salt and vinegar potato chips, a box of microwave popcorn, and expensive olives all made their cholesteroley way into our basket, followed by a gourmet berry cheesecake, smoked salmon, and a can of rambutan. Before we knew it, we were down to our final choices with only minutes to spare. Ian swift made for the gingernut cookies, while Kristy sprinted down the drink isle for a decadent box of mint hot chocolate. With only 96p remaining and a “go home now we’re closing” vibe emanating from the surly store attendants, we grabbed two Cadbury cream eggs and slid through the checkout with our hoard. It was a beautiful display of razor-sharp decision-making and physical dexterity and we will taste the fruits of our success for weeks to come.

And the moral of the story is, when faced with a choice between education, experience, and gluttony, always go for gluttony, but rationalize it as an educational experience.