Off my shopping trolley

Oh it is so so stormy. My cold frame is in next door's garden in exchange for their tree which seems to have come crashing down breaking our fence. Tempted though I am to call in Special Branch tree surgeons and send them an enormous bill, we'll probably do it ourselves. If I don't consider them suitably grateful I will call in super expensive fence menders. If you should come across our bin lid could you bring it back, ta. It's green with a squiffy 16 on the top. Sorry if you live the other side of the Cairngorms.

Mr Smith is having a day off. They'll have to make the tea themselves today. He is bursting to put on his cape and be Supermarketman but I have him firmly tethered to the floor. He comes back with SO much stuff and Icewoman here is determined to mine her way through the freezer. Last night I found some ribs, possibly mammoth, in the lower layers of permafrost past the orthopaedic peas and sublimated ice lollies. I also found some sausages and a packet of skinny little chips that never cook until they burn. Accompanied with baked beans and pale chips with black ends, our ribs and bangers made a mighty feast though I couldn't actually eat the ribs or chips with a chipped front tooth still held together with home dentistry and the Best Boy (with a hangover) took all the sausages.

The dentist rang. They can see me on Friday. That is now tomorrow. Oh that doesn't seem so far away. My broken bit of front tooth is held on with a teeny weeny bit of tooth mending mixture and is feeling a bit wobbly. Every little bite is taken with trepidation and I am avoiding a vast range of foods from biscuits to toffees which is a shame because my absolutely favourite biscuits are those ones Prince Charles makes with bits of toffee in them.

The telephone has rung non stop all morning. Mr Smith is sitting next to it so why can't he answer it? Oh he's very very busy - sudoku! "Hello. You're calling from India? Mr Smith? Yes, he's available. It's for you."

I am now going to the market with my lovely new shopping trolley bought for me by Mr Smith for Christmas. Most of Mr Smith's gifts have a slightly selfish edge in that they are gifts that will in some way benefit him. This year we have the cookery book, oven gloves, jar of mustard and a shopping trolley for me to fill with things purchased by me for him to eat. The alternative is him over shopping in the supermarket so I will put on my sturdiest raincoat, thickest gloves, and impermeable boots and brave the elements. Oh maybe Mr Smith could just go to Sainsburys.