In a crazy world where good things happen.


It was Saturday morning and I wasn’t hungover. My gosh I can’t remember the last time I was badly hungover. I kind of miss it. I haven’t managed to stay awake for long enough to drink enough to warrant a heavy head in the morning.

I divert.

Judging by the order list, I knew how busy it was going to get but felt that pre-7am I might get a snippet of time to organise myself ready for the rush.

I was wrong.

Customer after customer after customer out getting papers and milk before the birds had finished singing their first song. While I was very happy to serve, I was getting a teeny tiny bit stressed about the amount of orders glaring out of the book at me, knowing that the less organised I was the more things I’d miss and the more customers would be disappointed.

Thank God I wasn’t hungover.

This feeling left me when one happy customer (still pre-7am) started piling his goods onto the counter. Goods kept on piling up as he retrieved huge amounts of fruit and veg that I didn’t even know we had left, and all sorts of other items off the shelf.

“Is that everything for you?” I kept asking and still he was adding and adding, unaware as to what he needed but impressed at the range we stocked within four small walls.

Once he felt he’d cleared us out of most things, I tried to pack for him. I am the world’s worst packer. But still, he was extremely happy, we’d saved him time, he needn’t go anywhere else for the bank holiday weekend.

Good times.

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