Supplies

I have managed to go to the supermarket. I think everyone was in a slight daze, although Sainsbury's was not as manic as it can be.

So, I get my stuff, basically, something citrus looking, something green, and bunch of cereals, some fish, duck and pork, and head to the counter. The person in front of me needs a pen to sign something, so I hand over my Mitsubishi that knocks around in my Chrome bag (this is sounding very Bateman-esque entry). They leave, and I start to have my stuff scanned. The counter guy says he's seen me around the store before with the bag, and chats about saving the planet, etc. I don't have a store-card, and he tells me it's probably for the best as they spy on you. What with that and him complaining about the cost of food, I suspect The Management would be unhappy. On the other hand, the whole checkout experience becomes much more human, and I leave with a warmer feeling than I would otherwise.

One salmon and dolcelatte bagel later (not the best combo), I am preparing to get some writing done. Outside, it is miserable - windy and wet. Inside, I am doing some washing. Not really Sunday activity. Looking at the Facebook feeds, I think I currently know more people who are physically in Boston than I do in London.