I took Matty Tesco shopping thinking it would be rather quiet. Surely there'd just be a few folks out topping up on fresh bread and milk and maybe an alcoholic or two topping up on their New Year booze. Surely no-one could possibly need more food after their Christmas binge?
But no. The aisles were crowded and the trolleys were overflowing. The press of oul weemin around the bargain shelves nearly had the wee Tesco woman, only trying to refill the shelves, suffocated. You could see that she wanted to strangle those oul dolls with their own big fluffy Christmas scarves. I made sympathetic noises as she struggled from under their grabbing zombie arms. "Honestly," says she, "People are just so greedy!"
Myself, I managed to sneak a wee organic chicken from under their noses. Well a body does have to eat and I hate telling Zoe lies when she comes to dinner.
Meanwhile Matty was stocking up on the all-important pensioner staples, the People's Friend, white bread, Marie biscuits and a scratch card. But I had to rush her home then as I had an important afternoon engagement...
...for which I needed new gloves. I bumped into Dave at the garage. He was buying chainsaw food and I enquired if he was coming from us or had yet to call on us. He was coming to us for a chainsaw seminar with Bert. Or at least that had been his original intention. He informed me that he too was invited to our afternoon soiree. "Oh goody," says I. "You'll be staying for a spot of tea? We're having Turkey & Bacon Pie and some of Bert's Turkey Broth."
My new gloves were a great success. The Hunter wellies were a good job too although thermal socks might have improved my comfort levels. Between the four of us, Bert, Clint, Dave and myself, we soon had the last of the potato harvest dug, gathered and stored.
So now I'm having a wee dram of Laphroaig. It is New Year's Eve.