Thursday, January 27, 2005

A sign

You know you need to start eating more healthily when you get recognised by the owners of the local Chinese restaurant whilst shopping in Asda.

'Oh thats the woman from the Chinese I thought to myself' as I walked round.

"Harro" she said to me.

I was in a dilemma. I wasn't sure whether her knowing me was a good or bad thing - if I was one of the faceless masses that frequented her establishment then fair enough, but she recognised me, which meant that I went in there far too much. It was a sign.

While I was thinking this my stomach was telling my mind to stop being soft and to think about the possibility of free prawn crackers.

"Hello, errr, hello..." I said, feeling sad that I didn't know what her name was, other than the woman from the Chinese.

If I was to rank all the Chinese people in order of how often I see them, she would be the first, her husband who pops his head around the kitchen door every now and again would be second, their daughter who is sometimes on the counter would be third. And my Grandma would be 4th.

Her face then dropped as her eyes moved from me to the things in the trolley. If faces could tell a story hers would have said: 'what does he need all this food for - surely he gets all his food from us, he shouldn't need to be in here at all'.

It must have been a dagger to her heart to know that I'm being unfaithful.