I’m not a brave person. I’d like to think I am. And in my head I am. But in practice, I’m not.
One time, when I lived with my parents, a group of youths climbed over the fences and ended up in our garden on their way to who knows where. It was the middle of the night and they were making loads of noise on the decking and fretting about the security lights going on.
I, brave as anything, was awoken by this and just reached my hand out and turned on my light. This scared them away. I heard them all leave.
I waited for at least ten minutes before I got up to look.
Likewise, not long after, during an episode of CSI a youth in a grey hoodie just strolled through the garden and vaulted the fence at the back. Again I waited a plentiful amount of time before I went for a looksee.
So I am not a brave person.
But today… today I braved hell.
I went into Sainsbury’s – literally for four bread rolls so that we can have lunch tomorrow as I’ve not had chance to make any – at lunch time.
It was awful.
The combination of dithery old people shopping coupled with high-flying very important working people still talking shop on their mobiles while they dawdled about about the supermarket aisles made it one of the most challenging shops I have ever done.
All I needed to do was make a beeline for the back of the store. To where the breads live. It’s a straight line from entrance to bread, and then a slight diagonal to the tills. I had to take so many detours. Up aisles, only to be cut off by several-trolleys-abreast discussions. Or people with pull along bags all over the place. Or someone from the office phoning someone else in the office asking them what they wanted.
And then half the self-checkouts didn’t work.
It took an inordinate amount of time to purchase a pound’s worth of bread is what I’m saying.