I shouldn’t be a snob. I’m an East’enda, ain’ I? We give up the right to snobbishness with the first glottal stop. But many years ago, when I moved to the gentrified suburbs around ‘ampstid, I found all the Hs I’d spent my formative years dropping. They were in a little heap on the HHHeath Hextension and they’ve been firmly affixed ever since. Not always in the right place, Hi grant you, but I try to be careful.

So, as a snob, I shop… ok, ‘we’ shop in Waitrose. You have to or they take away your License to be Middle Class. And Marks & Spencer food hall. We’re allowed to shop at ‘convenience stores’ because… because they’re convenient. But only if they’re nice ones with massive displays of fabulous fruit and veg outside. Otherwise we’re not allowed in. “Sorry mate, ya can’t come in ‘ere, this is a scummy shop and we don’t allow posh people inside”.

We have a Co-op round the corner which I boycotted the day they opened, even though their stuff is pretty good and very cheap. But Co-op boycotted Israel long before it was even fashionable, so fuck ‘em. They can wait for Roger Waters to come in for an avocado, I’ll buy mine over the road at ‘the Turks’ (most fabulous ‘convenience store’ in the world). And we don’t go to Tesco because it’s a bit far. Ok, it’s 2 miles away, but with the Electric Vehicle, every journey’s a worry. And I have no idea where a Sainsbury might be and nor do I care, I’m covered.

And then there’s Aldi. The lowest, tackiest, most grobbiest form of shopping humility a man can take. But now and again we drive all the way to… North Finchley!!!, that post-apocalyptic netherworld so deprived and desolate that it has no Gail’s!!!, and we slouch into the Aldi. Not just to buy their quite amazing single-malt whisky, but also for certain other things which are just so much cheaper than anywhere else. Ok, I’m not saying its a pleasant experience. I’m not saying everything there is top quality, but some things are just ridiculously cheap. 12 2-litre bottles of diet lemonade later (I love lemonade), a dozen pack of water (for Mel, obvs), whisky, some wine, prosecco, few other bits and bobs… 50 quid. I offered to pay more, to help the deprivation, but they wouldn’t take it.

Fortunately no-one saw us enter or leave, and we were wearing balaclavas anyway, just in case, and also because everyone else in North Finchley wears them anyway as part of the government’s shop-lifting initiative.

The joys of shopping.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx