There was a time when the plan for each Saturday involved carefully dressing then catching the No 23 bus into town with my best friend Lisa. There we would buy Constance Carol eye makeup from the markets stall and purchase a Gregg's meat and potato pasty to eat from the paper bag whilst walking around the streets eyeing up hair accessories and pocket money clothes.
Now it is not possible to buy a Greggs meat and potato pasty because the EU regs say that because of their relative meat content they have to be called potato and meat pasties. They only time I frequent the market which now seems sadly seedy is when I am in dire, dire need of haberdashery and can live with the low grade quality of the stall there. I am ashamed to say I have no idea which number bus goes into town from here. Instead I drove in this weekend and faced the theatre of war which is Tesco's car park with drivers who will steal a spot which you are indicating to drive into as quick as say, "Santa Claus is coming to town'. I tried my best not to knock over all the old people who seem to think it is their right (because they fought in the war) to walk directly behind my reversing car. Then I went to shop in the laundry section of the supermarket.
Came away with this though and guess what - I am as happy as I was with my first goopy mascara. See that doo-dah thing by the iron rest? Its a place to hang binding strips as you iron them shut. What more can a girl want?
The renamed pasties still taste good too!