Nearly a year since I revolutionised my shopping and went online.
I know because Asda has just asked me if I want to renew my “recurring slot” – that phrase fair tickles me. Apparently, they’re not issuing any new ones meantime, but – for the fee – I’m allowed to carry it on for another year. Deffo yes. Couldna be fashed guddlin’ aboot searching for a decent delivery time and a’ booked up for weeks.
Over this terrible lockdown year, getting my messages through the ether has been a godsend. Carless, I no longer need drag my trolley up and back to Tesco – about 20 minutes each way.
I suspect I’m now sufferin’ supermerkitphobia. I’m freaked oot at the thought of venturin’ into a great big one, occasionally gettin’ up-close-and-personal with some possibly Covid-contacted stranger. I wouldna be able to concentrate on what I needed to buy. I’d be in and oot o’ there like a vindaloo.
Truth be told, I’m even jittery nippin’ roon to my local shoppie every Saturday morning for my Times (for the crossword).
Before I go in, I’ve to take aff my walking specs (because they get fugged) and mask up. Peer through the glass door to see fa’s inside (only two allowed). Speclessly blin’, I usually end up having to shove open the door and shout to the mannie if I can come in.
Last Saturday, all my fears came true. One wifie at the coonter, in I goes and lined up, socially distanced behind her. She was buying wine and beer, her woollie scarf as a makeshift mask. As her stuff was bagged, she suddenly birled roon to face me, shoved doon her scarf and, bare-mooth-and-schnozzle, declared: “It’s for a hoooose-warmin’.”
Fin that throttly, chesty, highly enthusiastic “hoo” came my way, I louped back like popcorn in a micro. I just nodded, lest further conversation – as I suspect she might have intended – ensue.
So I have to thank all the staff from every shop, big and little, who’ve been doing their damnedest this last year, ensuring all of us – whatever our needs – get our groceries. Mind you, sometimes I do wonder if some o’ the wonderful overnight packers for oor online deliveries might have more their taste than mine when it comes to “substitutes”. Take, for example, last week, when I was stocking up for my birthday. Me and my grand-daughter adore chocolate eclairs. Oot o’ stock, so instead I got… syrup sponge puddings. Fit the? My son-in-law loves cream donuts, so I ordered a selection. Substitute? Mair syrup puddings. For my favourite Swiss roll, I got… pink gin cheesecake slices. Helpmaboab! No problem, got them all refunded. Telling my quine I wondered what the packer had been thinking of that night, here’s her: “I would have loved those syrup puddings.” Would ye credit it?
Was it own goal over Covid plan?
Has Nicola Sturgeon shot herself in the foot with Tuesday’s announcement of a super-cautious countdown to the end of lockdown?
Certainly, there are a lot of deeply disappointed, if not downright angry Neesters, who think she should have taken her foot a bit more off the brake for us, with the lowest Covid rate on the mainland. On the plus side, most children will go back to school on March 15. However, we have to wait until April 26 for any other significant relaxation including hairdressers, restaurants and pubs – but still with alcohol restrictions. Holidays during Easter look to be gassed and even summer departures are still on a shooglie peg.
The fact that Boris has announced faster and greater relaxations – with his eye on April 12 – doesn’t make it any easier for us to plough on being good Covid isolationists. And if the English get away on holiday in July and August while the Scots are still grounded, the SNP could pay dearly.
Meanwhile, are any of you fully understanding the party’s civil war – Sturgeon versus Salmond? As a journalist, I’ve had a fair bit of training in Scots law, but all the ins and oots of inquiries and investigations have my heidie stoonin’. Suffice to say, Salmond alleges a plot to not only discredit, but actually jail him. And there are denied claims his one-time prodigy and friend Nicola could be among the conspirators. One thing’s for sure – the warfare will do nothing to boost the independence campaign.
Buzz about block-blitzing blockbuster
Fit an excitement. A major film being made with parts of Aberdeen as the setting.
The Zoo building and Tillydrone Avenue. Yer havin’ a joke. Nope. We have the delightful honour of discovering they’re dead-ringers for 1980s Soviet Russia. High praise indeed.
Much though I’d luuv to be an extra in a blockbuster, think I’ll just calm ma sooch.
After all, it’s aboot the video game Tetris (yer pullin’ ma leg!) and the Hollywood star is Taron Egerton.
Sorry, Tar m’loon, but I’ve niver heard o’ ye.