Tag Archives: Lidl

The First Morning of the Rest of My Life

I think we’ve finally made the breakthrough in decluttering. It’s cost us many arguments, the serious erosion of my book mountain and, in my case, a very stiff back, but yesterday I could finally see it was beginning to look clear rather than simply redistributed, and I felt free. Well, freeish. There’s still a lot to do, but we are getting there. Even moving the car insurance is part of the new life. At one time I would have paid the exhorbitant rise simply because I don’t like change.

For those of you who noticed it, I’ll go back to my spelling of exhorbitant in a later post.

Today I dropped Julia off at work and went shopping in Lidl. I normally go to Aldi (the other budget German supermarket) but I thought I’d give a recently opened branch of Lidl the once-over. I needed a loaf of sliced bread. Bear that in mind as I describe my shopping technique.

My first stop was the bakery, where I selected four croissants for tomorrow’s breakfast, because they looked inviting. I bought two pain au chocolat because Julia likes them, a sourdough boule, a , some cobs for a sandwiches over the next couple of days, and, finally, a brown sliced loaf. I( sound very middle-class, don’t I? Apart from the fact that Lidl isn’t the natural home of the middle-classes.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d stopped there, but I added sea bass (I hate fish but Julia loves it, and I’m still trying to make up for the lack of birthday presents, which are still in the post somewhere). Plus ham trimmings (which are a good, cheap sandwich filling), chocolates (see previous comment regarding birthday presents), butter (necessary for the sea bass), paracetamol (just in case of shortage) and some quinoa in microwavable pouches. Yep, definitely middle class…

I doubt I’ll go back. It was a poor shopping experience, despite the bakery. Too many customers with no masks, bossy checkout operator with no mask and a bad attitude, poor stock levels and obstruction of the aisles by staff.

I’ve also decluttered, written, drunk a bottle of Lucozade and filled the shredder, though I have stopped it before jamming it this time.

All in all, it’s not a bad morning, though I’m now starting to wonder if my new found energy is down to the psychological boost of decluttering or the 45g of sugar that the Lucozade label tells me I’ve just consumed. That’s 11 teaspoons according to the internet. Oh dear…

Speckled Wood




Frantic Friday

It’s been a bit of a rush today – shopping on the way to work as we haven’t been planning too well lately. The bakery section in the new Lidl at Bingham is good, so we had croissants for breakfast and sandwich baguettes for lunch. Probably a little bread-centred as a day goes, but as I said – we didn’t plan it too well.

Lidl was like a zombie convention with people of all ages doing their best to keep me away from the things I wanted to buy. It amazes me how many young people exist in a dream. I know we all slow down as we get older, I certainly am, and I’m not quite as alert as I was, but there’s no excuse for getting in my way when I’m in a hurry.

They even had a film crew in one aisle blocking my way to the jam. Well, a croissant needs jam, even if it is full of sugar. Then at the checkout (where they normally fling your shopping at you in an attempt to get rid of you quickly) another of the living dead was on the till.

Then it was the Garden Centre as Julia has plans. They include 30 seed trays and I am afraid to ask.

Men in Sheds put a donated garden shed up for us and re-roofed it. They are also making the Breadfest Project, which I may have mentioned before. I just had to add “Breadfest” to the dictionary as the spell-checker was trying to substitute “breastfed”, which would be a completely different project, and probably not one I’d be allowed to organise.

The Community Payback team have rebuilt one of the Keyhole Gardens, which was dismantled a while ago by a keen but misdirected volunteer. They have also emptied the compost bins and rescued a litter of mice, which they put back after uncovering them. I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering why, but I suppose all compassion should be given credit. Even compassion to vermin.

I’ve emailed forty more schools to drum up some business, read a number of fascinating emails that offer me a chance to get to know exotic women better, or help them move millions of pounds by sending my bank account details and finally had to walk half way through the village to find the ASDA delivery man who, amongst other things, brought chocolate doughnuts, diet coke and garish iced buns (though that’s not what it calls them on the bag. I fear our healthy eating message is being diluted by the cafe. Not that a man of my size can take the moral high ground on the question of diet. I’d run out of breath trying to get up there, for one thing

I’m rushing to get this finished because I┬áhave to set up for a group tomorrow and get Julia home before setting off to see my uncle, who is down visiting from Lancashire. If he can travel 180 miles to see my Dad at the age of 86 I should be able to travel a mere 60 to have tea with them. It would be nice if they didn’t want tea at 5pm (which would give me more time to do my jobs), but that’s what happens as you get older – mealtimes become less flexible and bedtime moves forward.

Not that I’m one to talk – I may not organise my life around going to bed for 7.30, but I am often asleep in front of the TV by that time. The real difference between me and my dad is merely 30 years. We’re deaf in the same ear, have gold caps on the same teeth and, according to my wife and my late mother, are irritatingly similar in many ways.

At eighteen, this would have been a distressing thought, but at 58 I’m not that bothered. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to irritate Julia before going to practice being an amiable old buffer and listening to stories I’ve heard before.