Finally, you’re done. Your trolley is now a mountain of decisions. The checkout is a game of chance. You can choose the self-scan, which will inevitably scream “Unexpected item in bagging area” at you just as you’re trying to scan a pack of sausages. You’ll feel a hot flush of shame as the teenager saunters over, sighs, and waves a magic wand over the machine.
Or, you can join a human queue. This is where you’ll have a real conversation. The cashier, a saint in a blue polo shirt, will ask if you found everything okay. You’ll both pretend the fire pit is a perfectly normal purchase. You’ll fumble for your wallet, apologise for the loose change, and then pack your bags in a way that guarantees the bread will be squashed under a four-litre bottle of milk.
The Journey Home
As you push your trolley back across that vast car park, the wind whipping around you, you feel a sense of accomplishment. You survived. You have food (and a fire pit). You’ve seen the full spectrum of human behaviour, from the man sniffing a pineapple with intense concentration to the toddler throwing a tantrum over a packet of Jaffa Cakes.
You load the car, the backseat now a tribute to your impulse buying. As you pull out of the Handsworth Road Supercentre, you swear you’ll make a list next time. You know you won’t. But that’s the beauty of it. It’s a community event, a grocery adventure, and a reminder that sometimes, the best part of a weekend is a trip to the big Asda. See you there.
