Down The Aisle

The thing about a little Surrey supermarket is that you do sometimes get interesting people popping in.

That Prince Albert of Monaco nipped in the other night – pleasant little chap. He rather shyly bought a packet of Durex – and a copy of The Daily Mail to hide it under, which I thought was sweet. He asked me quietly if he could get a refund later if he didn’t need them, so I just told him to keep hold of the receipt and that seemed to make the little fellow happy.

Rupert Murdoch was in. All he bought was phone top-up cards, which I thought was unusual, but then he has lots of relatives in Australia, doesn’t he, so he must be on the phone all the time...

Whenever I see The Queen going down the aisle, I always say hello and see if she needs a hand. She’s got to the age when she's starting to forget things – she’ll ask where the Marmite is when she’s standing right next to it, bless her – and she’s always asking me to get her a can of Basics tuna off the top shelf. She just can’t reach up there, the little dear. I do think supermarkets should consider the needs of short people more. Don’t tell anyone, but I put through her two cans of dog food but only rang one up on the till – well, you’ve got to help the old folk a little, haven’t you? She always gives a little wave as she leaves, which is nice.

Well – time to go, I guess. Oh - we might see Nick and Dave in the shop today. It’s so good, I think, that we’re so relaxed about gay couples now that a pair can govern the country and no one makes any comments. Nick will get his champagne, and Dave his six-pack of Stella... Nick always seems to pay though.

See you later!