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11 Pence, 11 Bloody Pence!!

Following this morning’s meander down the Main Street to my local Tescos Extra food store, I wanted to commence this lexicological sojourn advising my readership I’m safely repatriated within the familial home….. Mind you, only just!

Admittedly, this return into the Strachan abode not warranting the dramatic profile of the eponymous character’s home-coming in the Parable of the Prodigal Son’s. After all, this prodigal son’s odyssey for was merely embarked upon to acquire essential comestibles for mother Maggie.

That being said, though, despite my tale not incorporating the drama, envy and forgiveness of the narrative laid down in Luke 15:11-32, I’d like to think there’s a tinge of benevolence, jeopardy and sacrifice seeping through this less eventful anecdote’s pores.

After all, while Maggie sat safe from COVID-19 polishing the sofa with her backside, her eldest offspring nobly volunteered to jeopardise his own health. A sacrifice embarked upon so the matriarch could luxuriate upon Tesco’s Finest brand oven chips, a margarita pizza, vine tomatoes, bread, ham et al.


Also amongst my comestible bounty, a pack of six bagels inadvertently seized from the shelves after yours truly mistook them for bread buns. These boiled then baked bread items joining kosher baked bean tins as recently accidentally purchased foodstuffs of Jewish origin…… With these bagels eaten accompanied by a chopped pork filling, my lunchtime plate contents indeed bore a strange juxtapose.

As I headed towards the till, with contactless payment limits rising to £45 on 1st April, and being in possession of only one basket of shopping, I anticipated a slightly quicker checkout than normal. Instead, though, upon learning the shop’s total cost lay at £45.11, my mind became addled – This flummoxing a consequence of being ‘gross inconvenienced’, as now to secure this grocery bounty there was a need to enter my PIN number into. the card reader.

11 pence!… 11 pence!….. 11 bloody pence over the contactless threshold! Of course, I jest when I posit it’s a big inconvenience being made to key in my PIN number because of a breached card scan limit……. But, 11 bloody pence, I ask you!!

As I trudged back up East Ardsley Main Street towards my fixed abode, my capricious mind disproportionately cursed my lack of serendipity. Concluding, if I’d not benevolently bought my mum two x £1 bunch of daffodils there’d been no requirement to touch the card reader keypad; subsequently increasing my risk of contracting COVID-19.

In fact, I rued further, if I’d have bought Maggie one bunch of daffs instead of two there’d have been no requirement to wantonly jeopardise my health that way. As the old adage goes ‘No good deed goes unpunished!’

As I got within a few hundred yards of my West Yorkshire cul-de-sac, with a fellow East Ardlian strolling towards me on the narrow path, to allow adequate social distancing I stepped to my right. A manoeuvre necessitating GJ Strachan moving from path to road. Distracted by the daffodils, peeping like yellow meerkat heads from my carrier bag and gyrating in the breeze, I’d not heard a car passing from behind me.

Thankfully, the car driver’d anticipated for my reckless right step, meaning he was a decent distance away from hitting me. Upon realising my imprudence, I was relieved not to’ve received injury in the aftermath of this negligent foot manoeuvre.

It has to be said, though, the irony of me being run over by a car while employing sensible social distancing practices, mitigating against potentially contracting COVID-19, wasn’t lost on me!

As I walked through the front door, I was met by my mother who, on catching site of the flowers peering from my comestible bag, exclaimed “Bloody hell, those daffs are a bit scrawny, Gary!!”

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