the end of civilization

it is my view that the end of civilization can be seen for free each weekend at your local supermarket. it seems the bigger the superstore, the better the breakdown of all the social codes that we as humans hold so dear.

in my pre-slummy mummy life, trips to the supermarket did not exist. my meals generally came from restaurant kitchens and food for a rare night in would be bought in a small, select deli or in waitrose on marylebone high street.

to save time and effort nowadays, i get the organic veg box delivered to my door and the rest of the food/ nappies/ whatever delivered by ocado. this arrangement works perfectly, only leaving us without milk or bread on rare occasions when my slumminess means i've failed to click onto the relevant sites.

today was such a day, so off we went to sainsbury's. the hubs offered to stay in the car with the little thing and i agreed this was a good idea. have you seen how couples argue in those hell holes?

i grabbed a basket and began to grab the few things we needed. my first assailant was "TARQUIN !!!! ". Poor Tarquin was knee height, purple with rage and had just run head first into my (thankfully quite empty) shopping basket. Shooting me a black look, a blonde ponytailed yummy mummy with fur collars strode past, assuring her son and the rest of the store that he was "GOING ON THE NAUGHTY STEP THE MINUTE WE GET HOME".

eew. do your telling off in private. can't you bribe him with biscuits or something or just not bring him shopping ?

the next to bump into me - and my six month pregnant bump was another yummy type mummy. in her haste to reach the grapefruit she clipped my heels and whacked me in the back of the knees with her trolley full of fake organic foods. i turned around to shoot her a black look (thinking that is what these women do) to find her staring at the citrus selection, her little girl looked up at me and shrugged. i got it. all's fair in love and war and in the end of civilization which is here, each weekend.

past the smashed jam pot ("cleaner to aisle 15 please, cleaner to aisle 15"), past the shelf stackers who really, really don't wan't you to get past them and past all those bloody people who leave their trolleys unattended in the aisle. onto the check out, blank stares from the blonde doing the beeping, "Got a Nectar Card?", "collecting vouchers for fish or kids or whatever?", "enter your pin", the routine is sooo awfully routine. hurrying to pack my shopping while the person behind me was huffing at my slowness, i finally escaped into the car park where we entered some kind of special bank holiday gridlock.

on our way home we passed some morris dancers, reminding me that it is may 1st today - may day. i wonder whether in the days of may poles on village greens and maidens dancing round the phallic symbol that people thought that was the end of civilization? at least it looked a lot prettier than ours.