“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” sang Andy Williams in Sainsbury’s. We were doing our Big Christmas Shop, calculating the moment when the veggies would be at their freshest and the store would be at its least frequented. I’m sure someone’s done equations on that but I don’t care to look it up: it’s Christmas after all.
I don’t think I can agree with Andy Williams though. I mean Christmas might have been the most wonderful time of that particular year, a year that saw the assassination of JFK and escalation of the Vietnam War. But Andy doesn’t really go into detail about why. He just goes on about ‘mistletoeing’ (not a word) and ‘scary ghost stories’ (not entirely Christmassy).
Sainsbury’s got gradually busier as we pushed our trolley round. From the snippets of conversation we overheard (not to mention our own debates about the list) it was clear that hardly anyone in the store was having a good time.
“I’m just getting through it and out of here as fast as possible,” said one lady, her sequinned Christmas jumper glinting in the frozen aisle. Others were even less impressed. A gentleman gave me a look of solidarity as his wife led the way through a crowd by the cheeses. One hand held a long list, the other a pen. He seemed to be blindly following her, and crossing things off with a wistful eye on the price labels. I raised an eyebrow back, knowingly.
The staff were stressed too. Shelves needed restocking and shuffling with whatever the computer had decided goes where - decorations are gone, nibbles are in. Gifts are dwindling and boxes of Quality Street are invading the ‘seasonal’ aisles. And in between all the changes, their store was crowded with these pesky customers - people who stop and dawdle, can’t control a trolley and don’t know where the chutneys are. And there were hundreds of them.
Sammy and I got to the end of our list and escaped with a Starbucks hot chocolate. I peeled open the long long receipt and scanned it for discounts and nectar points.
“Ooh Santa,” she said.
“Well I am checking it twice,” I replied.
Andy was the only one having a truly ‘wonderful’ time, I realised. His heart has been glowing with those Christmas royalties since 1963. Lucky old Andy.
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