I had fully intended to get out my sketchpad, yet here I am with my netbook open writing to you yet again, my dear blogophiles. Twice in one day is perhaps a bit excessive, I know. I am sat in the supermarket cafeteria, waiting for today’s special offer of scampi and chips. It is 2.30 p.m. which is, by convention, too late for lunch and way too early for dinner. Indeed, it is too early for afternoon tea, although scampi is hardly the thing for that delightful repast, in any case.
The weather has not improved: rain, rain, and more rain. I munch. The scampi is rather tasty, and the chips are not too bad. I am eating American style, with fork in the right hand. This enables me to move between keyboard and food without too much hassle. There is a rather severe looking old man at the next table, with white hair and wrinkles that add oodles of mysterious character. I contemplate getting out the sketch pad, but I rather think he might lurch over to me and give me a whack with his walking stick if start to measure the cut of his jib with my 2B pencil. A woman with the most amazing blonde hair stacked up in an ice-cream cone bouffant glides off in the direction of shopping with a grace that might only be matched by the Queen of Acheron.
I could use some tomato ketchup on these chips but I can’t be bothered to go and get it. Everything seems to come in sachets nowadays. I miss the bottles and dispensers with congealed gunge around the neck. One very good thing about this cafeteria is that there is no musak. However, it is a little cold if you sit by the windows. I therefore chose a seat quite near to the serving counter. The problem with this is that I have the drone of the refrigeration cabinet in my left ear. This is nowhere near as interesting as the sound of a Copenhagen bus that Torben Asp uses in one of his electronic music compositions. In fact it is getting on my nerves.
There is something a tad depressing about this place. It feels as though the aliens have landed and we are the bunch of folks who got fed up with all the government emergency instructions on TV and decided to go out for a quick snack instead of reinforcing our doors and windows with the laser-proof sheeting the council lorries dumped in our driveways last night when the news of the invasion first broke.
The last pea has been speared by my fork and is now en route to my tummy. I am swigging down the remains of the cup of coffee. It is a little cool. I am looking at my shopping list… Razors. You might find that odd for a man with a beard but I need to shave my neck else I start to look like a bit-part actor in a horror movie. Speaking of which, I need to get some garlic, always good for warding off the vampires. Ok. I must get trolleyed up (in England we call a shopping cart a trolly). Speak to you later.
John's Quavering Pencil 
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