I am slightly drunk and in the corner shop.
What? I know.
I am also slightly drunk now.
I am over by the freezers gazing at the Ben and Jerry’s, and over by the sauces looking at the Nutella. It’s suddenly very difficult to decide what to buy.
I go to the fridge section and go about my usual business NOT WANTING TO BE DISTURBED BY ANNOYING SHOPKEEPERS.
“Alright luv,” Annoying Shopkeeper says. “Got enough coke cans there?”
I drop one. What? Isn’t it against some social code for a shopkeeper to remark on your purchases?
“What?” I say, defensive. “I like it.”
“Oh, I hate the stuff,” Annoying Shopkeeper says.
I seethe a bit. I am protective of coke. And why start a conversation about something you don’t even like? Oh, just go away will you, if I want to buy nine cans of coke when I have wine-breath I bloody well can.
Besides, it’s my business. You just sell it to me. I don’t have to say anything. Right?
Right.
“God you have got loads!” Other Shopkeeper chimes in.
“Oh, I’m having a party,” I say.
What? What? Why did I say that?
Oh, yes, hello, I’m having a party with approximately NINE people coming and, as a special treat, I am going to give them all a can of coke!!
I exit the shop, bright red, after banging my head on the door (not my fault).