I go to a poncey supermarket

It’s happened. I officially shop at Waitrose. Sometimes. What I once derided as the habitat of middle-aged, middle class women has become my second choice supermarket when I need to pick up my beans or soup (with beans in it). That is second behind Lidl, of course – I could never really completely dump Lidl. It has cheap things, and cheap things are good. Still, Waitrose is the alternative that I’ve picked for when I’m bored of questionable meat, or vegetables that look a ‘bit wrong’. Also it’s right across the road from Lidl, which means it’s always an option as I do so hate having to move more than absolutely necessary.

Oh wait, no – I mean: “I shop at Waitrose because I care about quality products at competitive prices, have a boner for Heston and Delia and love the fact that they only use farmers who ‘share their values’”.

Why is a supermarket a statement of your class, of your quality of life or of the type of person you are? Why are all the women in Waitrose (who look like clones) frightened of walking across the road for far cheaper items of equal quality? Why do I have to be confronted with Heston Bloominhell (HAHA SATIRE) and his stupid penis-like head every time I go into that place? So many questions, so little in the way of answers. It’s a supermarket where they sell you things in order to make a profit. It’s not a statement on your quality of life, your health, wealth or wise… th. It’s just a supermarket. Just like Lidl. They both sell beans. It’s like people getting nostalgic about Woolworths: stupid and annoying.

Still – got some cheap Waitrose banoffee pie today. Can’t argue with those odds.

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