Mrs P and I go to the supermarket after lunch. Our
usual time being 9am Monday morning, when it is usually quiet, we are somewhat
surprised how at busy it is. Most people in there seem to be of retirement age
and so are probably stocking up after their weekends frivolities. For the
second week running there are not enough tills open, and when the call goes out
for trained cashiers, the rush of employees is distinctly underwhelming. In
fact it is non-existent. I feel like I can officially announce the death of
customer service in our supermarket.
We are currently seeing if we can make it to October
without putting the heating on, like many other households I suspect. So it is
we are digging out extra jumpers and wrapping up warm. In an effort to warm up
further, I take myself out to play football in the evening, which I expect will
be the only sweating I do this week. I continue to be amazed how blokes of 40 years
plus, can get so annoyed over a friendly game of football, I think some of them
have forgotten you’re there to enjoy yourself.
Yours already missing the warmth of summer.
Jay
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