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.