Supermarket Politics and an Empty Brain

In the past I would have just tried to muddle on, but today when I forgot some complicated but fundamental shit at work, I had to put out a distress call to a small private what’s app group, we work but we don’t trust the work phones or the work what’s app groups, you never know who’s lurking. There could be the Clown King of the Potatoes, my old boss who I’m sure regular readers and stalkers alike would remember as being a considerably unsavoury fellow with a Napoleon complex and one who wears clothes far too tight to be comfortable. I’ve seen failed sportsmen also try to rock the look, thinking their muscles are still Buff and maybe hoping the tighter t-shirts may have girdle like properties, they don’t they just make you look like an uncomfortable man trying to cling onto his youth, unsuccessfully. Anyhow, tody I forgot how to do something and for a couple of hours I spent a disproportionate time switching from window to instructions and back to window to try and sort out the problem, I’d stand up and get tea, which would then go cold half drunk on my desk and I’d get another one, like a junkie, a good for nothing rotten forgetful tea junkie. In the olden days (this marks me out as being a man of a certain age now) I could just fudge it, get the job done and no one would say anything about it, but now, with this new system… Damn… You’ve heard enough, I certainly have, only 16 more years left until I can retire!

In other news I popped into Aldi tonight to get some veg, my favourite checkout controller was there, I always queue at her till, no matter what the length, unless I’m busy, she’s friendly. Wee chewed the fat briefly, its all so quick, getting the bags packed and paid and off while the person behind breathes down your neck practically. Covid was good in supermarkets, people kept their fucking distance and there was a accepted courtesy at the aisle junctions, polite rights of way observed and not so much of a scrum at the central random stuff aisles. The way people behave at supermarkets says a lot about them and also collectively how the population is reacting, more glum faces, less smiles, less talking. I always try to make at least one friend every time I go into a supermarket, the friendship may not last much longer than an excuse me at the sardine section, but I’m trying to make people smile and there’s no harm in that. Anyway my checkout Champion told me that I’d lost weight, loads of it… She must be blind as I’ve lost precisely… well I’ll tell you tomorrow morning post ablutions, but not much.

With Mrs T in Lisbon and daughter at Uni, its just the boys here for these few days, and at the rugby on Sunday I was told by both coaches and at least 2 Dads that my son had balls the size of medicine balls the way he played on Sunday, small chap but not afraid to tackle the biggest blokes there, some nudging 6 feet I reckon. That made me extremely proud, but so tired, 3 days up early dropping people off and picking people up, ferrying folk around . Such is the life of a man with a car, maybe the early mornings and late nights are sucking the life out of my poor brain.

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