First, you have to survive the car park. It’s huge, but somehow always feels just full enough to be annoying. You’ll circle for a bit, muttering to yourself about “that guy in the Audi.”
But then, a miracle. A space opens up right by the trolley bay. You feel like you’ve won a small, pointless lottery. Don’t get too cocky, though—the trolleys have a mind of their own.
One wheel will always be wobbly. It’s tradition. You’ll push it sideways for the entire shop, convincing yourself it builds character.
Inside: The Great British Grocery Experience
Walking through the automatic doors is like entering a different dimension. The air hits you—that specific, cold, recycled supermarket breeze. It smells of fresh bread, cleaning fluid, and vaguely of responsibility.
The store is laid out in a way that feels logical, then it isn’t. Need milk? Sure, it’s in the back corner, past the Halloween aisle in July. You’ll do a full marathon before you find the eggs.
I swear the store whispers to you. “You don’t need that cheese,” it says. Then you see a three-for-two deal on brie and suddenly you do need it. You absolutely need all of it. How did three blocks of brie end up in my basket? Don’t ask questions.
