Today we are supposed to go to Margate instead of yesterday, embargoed as we were by fridge delivery. First, though, we had to go shopping. Having breakfasted in a cafe in Chapel Market, we retired to Tchibo’s chairs in the N1 Centre to wait for Sainsbury’s to open at 11 am.
When Sainsbury’s doors opened we trundelled our trolley down the aisles with a feeling of expectation. Deprived of a fridge for a week, we had foregone our weekly shop and managed in an ad hoc way, buying odds and ends day by day. That time of parsimony was now over!
Tigger would be the first to agree that she is no paradigm of the domestic arts1. It was therefore amusing and endearing to see the enthusiasm and joy with which she raided the shelves. She was after all consuming for three: the two of us and the new fridge with its hungry freezer drawers.
When I was sent for cheese slices and returned bearing a packet, her exclamation of “Only ONE!?” showed the depths of the regime change. We bought everything in twos and threes: one for now and two to be frozen for later.
The trolley wasn’t actually groaning under the weight of victuals by the time I dragged it to the check-out but it ought to have done so. Our bill was more than twice what it usually is.
On returning home, the fun started again as Tigger displayed her organizational skills packing everything away in the fridge.
Now we are having a little rest before going to London Bridge and thence to Margate.
1This is not a criticism in the slightest. Quite the opposite. I admire and love Tigger exactly as she is and would not wish her to be changed by one jot or tittle.