A Grandmother's Duty

Strawberry Tarts that look better than they taste!

"Grandma? Did you get groceries? Don’t you understand? It is your duty.”

That is the part that made me laugh, having never seen a list of duties for grandmothers.

I like shopping. Having someone else’s credit card in my hand and browsing up and down the isles, looking for good food is especially good. However, I have done that grocery shopped for nearly fifty years now, and some of the charm of buying groceries is gone. Rebecca took me on a dry run through the store before she left – picking up Nutella, shelf-life rice milk, Sainsbury’s skim milk, the products that really matter around here.

97% pure pork ... who knew?

Who would have thought there is a difference between buying Sainsbury pork sausages and Sainsbury 97% pork sausages? I congratulate myself just on getting meat into the cart and had no idea that the expectations would be so high on what I actually selected.

In previous trips to the grocery store I have only been an interested sight-seer, letting Wyona and Glen select the breads and cheeses, figure out which are the best desserts – that was a job for others, but not the task has landed on me. In fact ... as a duty. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the fact that you select a loaf and then take it to another counter to have it sliced, either medium or fat slices. But having the information and not having done the drill slowed me down considerably.

... choose your cheese ...

Rebecca had also taken me to the Indian store down when we had to drop in and have a document certified. “Who wrote this,” the solicitor asked. “I did,” she said. “Do you need to make any changes.” “No, it is fine,” he replied and she paid her 15 pounds to him instead of 50. That conversation was more interesting to me than marking the spot where the East Indian store was located – until yesterday when I wanted to make dahl. I have no idea why the idea struck me, but in cases of food urges, it is better to give in, I have learned. Having no ground cumin, no coriander, no turmeric, and no red lentils,  I slipped up and down side streets trying to find my way to a store, where, when my products were bagged, they said, "Oh, we don’t take Visa. Too expensive."

 “Then I will come back for these in a couple of hours when I have been home and dropped off these other groceries,” I said.

... buy pork, not fish ... it is your duty ...

I will always remember where the Indian Grocery Store is located for next door is NL Auctions – in business since 1977. “Oh, Wyona is going to kill me,” I thought, “when she finds out I am going to auctions without her.” I slipped in and enjoyed the thrill of the bidding. I don’t like to gamble. Watching the auction, and wondering what Wyona, especially, is going to do next at one? Now there is a rush there. I kept track of the prices for her. A 3-D Victorian slide-viewer, complete with cards -- £150. An ivory letter opener -- £20. I noted the viewing times and the date of the next auction: viewing on Sundays, and all day Mondays until the auction at 2 p.m. Perhaps I will find something small enough to bring back in my suitcase – no use looking at the beautiful furniture this round.

The clerk at the grocery store must not have believed I would return. When I did, picking up even more groceries and then cashing out at another till, the first clerk came over to me with some garlic and coriander naan, putting it so close to my face I could hardly see what it was.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I say, although I am afraid of what he is going to ask next.

“Then I am giving you these 2 packages free of charge – they are dated to be used by tomorrow.”

Oh, London is fun!