Shopping as it Should Be

As with many small villages, the local shop is the hub of our little community. If you pay attention, every day you'll see business deals being made and broken; affairs of the heart beginning and ending and have a chance to throw a vague nod in the general direction of the local movie star who you never quite recognize because he always looks like he just rolled out of bed. Due to the limited size of the place, there is also the blink and you'll miss it element to actually finding what you want to buy, so it's critically important that you move slowly. If you get behind someone in an aisle, store (community) etiquette (space restriction) demands that you stay behind them until you reach the end where there is a bit more space to manoeuver around them.

Monday morning I went to said store to get a few things. I generally do most of my shopping online and have it delivered, but I end up at the shop most days to pick up essentials like bread and milk and the occasional bottle of wine. This particular morning saw me needing a good few things as the online shopping centre had a malfunction on the weekend and I didn't end up getting my delivery until Monday evening.

Now for those of you who aren't Irish, Sunday is a big drinking day here... when I entered the store, I found myself following a man just a little older than my good self. He was a rather attractive fellow with expensive casual clothes and a well groomed salt and peppery beard.

I was just thanking the universe that I wasn't caught behind Mad Mary who is not only crazy but also has the worst body odour ever, when Mister BT2 let rip this almighty fart. I paused to see how polite society deals with such a thing, but apparently they just pretend it hasn't happened. So Mister Usedtobeattractive stopped to consider which loaf of overpriced bread to buy, which meant that I was stuck standing behind him. Not a bad view, really; all things considered.

And then it hit. Now, if you've ever smelled a Guinness fart, you'll know immediately what I am talking about. If you haven't, count your blessings. It's somewhere in the range of boiled eggs and rotten garbage with a little pulp factory thrown in for good measure. And, trust me on this one, a Guinness fart doesn't linger; it sets up house.

It was at this moment that I decided to breach protocol. I scooted out into the oncoming lane and got around him. As I passed he looked at me as if I was the rudest creature on the planet, so I shrugged and said, "Dude, you couldn't possibly expect anyone to stand in that" And off I went.

Once out of the range of yer man's personal pong, I dried the tears from my eyes then, meandered around watching for what might happen next and making up what I couldn't manage to piece together. I managed to drop the requisite thirty euro and even got the few bits and pieces that I went there for in the first place.