In view of the current deadline status I had decided to temporarily abandon trips to the supermarket (usually one of my top work-avoidance strategies) and instead drop into the farm shop on the way to pick up the children from school. This was supposed to be a huge treat-- it's ruinously expensive, but the stuff they sell is all local/homemade/organic/gorgeous, and the place has a kind of soothing atmosphere of reverential wholesomeness that is particularly nice after a hard day at the keyboard. It's exactly the sort of place I imagine the posh characters in The Archers frequenting, and Liz Hurley when in residence in her Cotswolds manor.
However, the fact is I'm homesick for Sainsburys. Am guiltily sloping off there now to lurk in the aisles, flick through tacky celebrity magazines and stock up on e-numbers and environmentally irresponsible cleaning products.
3 comments:
I think I know the farm shop you mean. The one with the ambling cows outside, which invite a lesson to curious children on just where the tasty meat inside comes from?
That's the one, Eva.
Always difficult to find a happy answer when they say 'I wonder where those calves that were here last time have gone?'
We have an organic box delivered every week, but our supplier doesn't do meat.
I send DH to do the weekly shop for me when I'm on deadline. Wish I'd gone myself yesterday, though, as he saw something unusual...
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