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...and shop in Wood Green for a change.
According to Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management “A necessary qualification for a housekeeper is, that she should thoroughly understand accounts”
My housekeeper has a limited grasp on such matters and regularly fritters away the housekeeping on baubles and balloons. I’m taking her in hand and trying to educate her in the art of thrift.
Monday was my fortnightly foray into Wood Green. I have appointments and linger longer than usual to browse the shops.
My first revelation is the classical music that is now being piped into the ticket hall at Wood Green tube. It is both rousing and calming and, in my sleep deprived mind, creates a surreal cinematic experience akin to that sequence in the Fisher King, when all the commuters at Grand Central Station begin to waltz. Watching the traffic cavort up, down and round the crossroads is quite jolly when sound tracked to Mozart.
My second revelation is that monster that is Morrison’s. I used to shop there when living up North as we didn’t have a Tesco or a Sainsbury’s, not even an Iceland. Poor us. I’ve never used it down South as I availed myself of the supermarkets that I’d never encountered so this was a first for me. And crikey Bob, there are more reasons to shop at Morrison’s.
I was mesmorised by the meat counter – yes, the adverts are correct, there are real butchers doing dangerous things with hammers, saws and axes. The meat looks wonderfully fresh and there is so much variety: Beef skirt (you too can dress like Lady Gaga), Oxtail, plenty of offally bits and TRIPE! Fresh from Lancashire. You can’t beat that.
The fish counter too delivers its promise. It does all look freshly caught and is laid out beautifully: octopus, squid, scallops, skate and all manner of whole and fish fillets. I used to be married to a fish pathologist so I know what I’m talking about.
I buy “Hedgehog Bread” from the bakery and an “Easter Bun Crown”. I get a massive Pizza Express pizza for £2.49 (double the price in your other supers) and lots of bottles of vegetable and fruit juices. I usually juice my own but I’m tired at the moment and can’t be fagged to peel, chop and compost 6 tonnes of vegetable matter in the morning.
A vicious but funny exchange of words breaks out in the frozen food aisle when two girls who clearly know each other, but are not shopping together, start screaming and accusing each other of “sucking”. “Don’t you suck at me!” is the cry that ricochets past Captain Birdseye and the Findus Crispy Pancakes. I know what this means and it amuses rather than horrifies. The fact that they are both independently talking on their phones to other people whilst conducting this show just adds to the dramatic tableau.
I'm slightly disappointed not to find the "Morinoff" vodka that is available in the Northern branches but am placated by the sight of a real ale called "Banana Bread Ale". If I was still a drinking woman I'd have bought some (and probably be discovered later, gibbering in Shopping City) but I just get a mini-bottle of claret for Mr Cupcake's steak and chips supper.
My shopping total comes to about £65 and I have much more than I usually buy for the same amount at Sainsbury’s. I do however spend £7 on a taxi back to Crouch End so would need to factor that into the budget. Must tell Housekeeper – she’s sturdy and strong and could carry the shopping back to N8 with no reliance on a taxi.
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