It is a rare occasion indeed these days when I feel young. I’m creaking around the edges, with hints of grey in my beard and a constant struggle, not always well fought, to keep the excess pounds away. But today was one of those rare occasions, if only for a short while.
I have noted for some time that the numbers of people carrying out their “big weekly shop” is in rapid decline, what with the move to on-line shopping and people doing more top-up shops, but there is still a group of people for whom the big shop is still an integral part of the week: senior citizens. My trek around the aisles of Sainsburys in Filton was largely unmemorable, but suddenly I was young again, or rather I was young compared to the vast majority of shoppers. I looked around the store and everyone around me was either a senior citizen or a mother with a young child, with the odd soldier from the nearby MOD behemoth across the road.
The older people all had lists, but not just any old lists. Great big long lists with what seemed to be scores of items. And it was at the Deli Counter where I was transported back to my childhood because this was exactly the sort of place to which my mum took me.
“A quarter of Yorkshire, please”, said one lady, nodding to her husband who was in control of the trolley. No metric measurements here, then. “And a quarter of Haslet, thinly sliced.” Mmm. Haslet. “Four sausage rolls please.” I was getting hungry by now. “Half of medium cheddar, please. Is there anything else on the list, love?” Husband shook his head. “Oh, and a quarter of luncheon meat. I think that will be all.”
The Deli was the busiest place in the store and not entirely coincidentally it was the most old fashioned place in the store. Yes, I know that there are plenty of new-fangled items at the Deli these days – I mean, olives? – but they’re of little concern to the Deli shopper. I felt almost guilty buying some Chicken Satays and a Kathi Kabab. Not exactly traditional, is it?
I’m afraid I was very nosey too. Like my grandparents, everyone bought biscuits and lots of them. Bourbons seemed to be a particular favourite, but I could see that Rich Tea was going down well too, presumably because of their excellence in the dunking department.
I gave up looking after a bit because it seemed I was getting near the stalker stage, but my guess is that there would have been a certain resentment at the breads you can buy these days. I don’t think I ever tasted brown bread until I was the other side of adolescence, my grandparents preferring white bread so weak and thin that even the bluntest knife tore straight through it and I ended up chewing through mulchy slivers of what tasted rather like I imagined paper might be.
And crumpets. Always crumpets, except that Nellie and Alfred always called them pikelets, cooking them with use of a fork over a coal fire which may have been burning throughout the year.
I say all this in a deeply affectionate way, though. It’s certainly a social event for many people, getting out and about on a particular day, usually meeting people they’ve met every Friday since I don’t know when and routines can be fun. And it’s how people of a certain generation behave. It’s all they know. They probably spend their evenings reading the People’s Friend or doing crosswords, not squandering hours hammering away on the internet (like I do). My grandparents wouldn’t have entertained so much as a calculator in the house, never mind a computer. What do you need one of those for? Kids have it too easy these days!
But just to show that I was not getting ahead of myself, I simultaneously showed my relative youth and imminent old age by buying the new CD by the popular beat combo outfit Blur. I shall receive firm admonishment from she who must be obeyed when she finds out because “only old people buy CDs these days and anyway there’s nowhere to put them all” and she has a point.
But, hey: I like things like they used to be, physical copies of the music I love. Just like yesterday’s middle aged people like the Deli, I suppose.
