Shopping

I left her wandering in women’s fashions and took a cursory look at the men’s fashions. I say cursory as I only buy clothes when I need them, which is not apparently how women shop.

The January Sales were in full flow and she said “I’ll meet you in the food department in 5 minutes”. It was that and more and still no sign of her.

Actually that is a lie.

Walking back from the fruit and vegetable section I peered over a rack of shirts and saw her quite clearly. Her distinctive mass of blonde hair was visible focused over an almost endless line of women’s blouses. The dresses and coats were yet to be inspected.

I wandered back to and around the food department, an empty wire basket in hand and probably a bored look on my face. I drifted down the meat section, up the dairy trying to look as if I was considering the buying of a piece of cheese or a carton of milk, full fat or low fat? I surveyed the reduced items shelf and noted the offerings today. Prawn cocktails, a favourite of mine were there, by the tub, at 33% off. I noted them only as we would make a decision when together we bought the supplies. I’m an impulse shopper who sent out for a loaf of bread returns with three bags of food.

I doubled back to the fruit and vegetables, our meeting spot before pressing on deeper into the veritable jungle of food. I covered the frozen food in a matter of seconds and arrived at the hot food deli counter hungry. There were no customers, just the three unsmiling female white coated staff who looked back at me. I smiled weakly and stared into the glass display cabinets where the sausages, chicken nuggets and chips looked steaming hot and inviting. My stomach rumbled and I remembered it had been 5 hours since breakfast. I’ll propose we get something to eat now.

I retraced my steps to the fruit and vegetable and found my “shopped out” partner and as we walked back together I pointed out the possible purchases. Nothing interested her until we reached the deli counter.

So there we stood, both ravenous. “I’ll take the cooked chicken”. Now at this point in the chicken buying process I usually gesture out a particular chicken saying “Can I have that one – I don’t want to get an ugly one!” It’s just something I do and say so that I can get what appears to be the best one on display. If I say nothing the Deli staff tend to just grab the nearest one. But today I didn’t feel the warmth of love flowing between me and the deli staff and held back on my quip. She reached in with the pincers and grabbed the nearest chicken and in it went into an insulated bag with a price sticker slapped on for good measure. Walking away I had a nagging feeling that it was an undersized, slight bird and that I would regret not choosing my favourite. It was in the back of my mind as I drove home.

It was only when we got home and I opened the bag that my worst fears had indeed appeared to come through. I split open the bag to reveal a chicken that had avoided food and apparently spent its time on a treadmill. It was as lean as lean could be. I went to cut some tender chicken breast off and came across the rib cage within seconds. I searched for meat with the knife but wherever I looked I came up against bone. I knew it looked small in the shop but surely there must be more to it that this?

It was at this point that I called my wife across and pointed out the scarcity of meat on this bird. I now know why I married this woman. Saying not a word she took the chicken and flipped it over on the plate. I’d been staring at it upside down.

“Plenty of meat on this side” she said before walking away, “Can you cut me a breast?”