It’s time to write another in an ocassional series of travel blogs. The aim is to describe in withering tones exactly where I’ve been and how jaw droppingly and achingly beautiful it all is at the same time ensuring that I appear to be at one with the locals.
Today I went to Sainsburys. There’s a map which shows you exactly where it is. I can’t really provide details of the journey, as this would be a gross infringement of my privacy and might lead to identity theft, but I can say that I went underneath a railway bridge.
On arrival, as seems so common here these days, I was greeted by two most beautiful beggars. Their eyes told a story of much sadness, yet I could see through it all the sheer joy, desire and will to battle adversity shining through.
After donating 23 pence to the Berks, Bucks and Oxon Wildlife Trust I took time out to think of what I would actually buy. First off, I thought, would be a chance to understand the local culture, what drives these people, what makes them who they are in this world, so I placed a copy of the Observer in the beautiful ethnic baskets provided by the local trader. I decided now to take in some of the cafe society which makes this part of the world so famous, so I joined a young couple outside near the car park after purchasing a “Latte” from “Starbucks”.
One of the pleasures of travelling to far flung places is to enjoy the sight and sounds of young people who are clearly in love. While some people take this to extents I consider too far, like the Leighton Buzzard Society of Train and Dogging Spotters, the pleaures gained from these experiences make a trip holistic in a positive way. Thus it proved, as the young couple admired each others tattoos and discussed their dreams. I wished them the best of luck and proceeded into the market to buy the fresh prrrroduce available.
And what produce! A chance for me to explore another of my passions. Fine cooking! With my life partner due to arrive back this evening from travels of her own, I knew that a rustic risotto was just the ticket or, as local parlance has it, “Do you want some?”
Queuing. Much has been made of this very strange British habit. I find it quite amazing that a country as backward as this one has managed to find a way of ensuring a fair for all system, although I find the segregation of baskets and trollies to be suspect and, in many ways, reminiscent of the USA in the 1950s and 60s. One day, all shoppers will be treated the same. That is my dream.
Talking of peoples’ dreams, my last thought as I left the car park and headed home was that one day I will see that young couple on the Jeremy Kyle show.