Saturday 9 January 2010

Easter's Come Early

I've just been to Tesco. I had to go - my vacuum cleaner has given up again, and the little independent vacuum cleaner and accessories shop I like to frequent was closed, 'for two weeks' it said on the helpful hand-written notice stuck to the metal shutters. I'm not a fastidious person, but two weeks without a vacuuming session, and there being a hole in the coal bucket (dear Liza), means my once cream carpet has gone a bit black round the grate. 'Big' Tesco (as locals like to call it) was the only place to go for replacements.

The first thing that hit me this time was the enthusiastic marketing of Easter bunnies and creme eggs, the 'season' being 1st Jan to 4th April (nothing much to do with the Paschal Full Moons then). I don't know about you, but I'm only just recovering from Christmas, and so was Tesco (cheap mistletoe-embellished cakes and whole walls built out of Pringles). The other thing I noticed about Big Tesco was the distribution of types of shoppers in the aisles. DIY equipment was wholly populated by men, the pharmacy area by old people, organics by corn braided shoppers in colourful coats. The only aisle that was empty was pet food. Twickenham dogs and cats must still be working their way through the left over turkey - not ready for the rabbit yet either.

While I was there, I was inexplicably overcome by the need to buy a new mop. I have trouble with mops. About once every five years I buy a new one, thinking it will revolutionise my life. I fell for the 'Vileda Supermop', I fell for the 'Wood Floor Mop System'. The problem with these is that you can never find the right replacement parts. I spent a dispropotionate amount of time considering the fixings of mop accessories, before succombing to the charms of the 'Tesco Sponge Mop', which looked simple to use even for me and, cleverly thinking ahead, purchased a replacement head at the same time. This should keep me going for about the next decade, floor mopping not being too high on my agenda.

I cruised home, strangely looking forward to some serious housework, and as I drove past the corporate concrete megolith that is the rugby stadium, I couldn't help wondering whether it might look better built out of unsold savoury snack tubes.

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