Last week, in our separate insomniac ways, we each booked a grocery delivery for today. On my announcing triumphantly that I’d booked a slot, the reaction was ‘ah: so have I’. I went back in and emptied my shopping trolley, hoping that would do the trick. Wrong! I only found out when an email crashed in in the small hours announcing a substitution. My delivery arrived first, and I was politely grateful, hoping against hope that Martyn’s would be brought by a different driver, to spare my blushes. No such luck, so I had to confess. Well, he uncomplainingly unloaded the second batch, and departed with a cheerful ‘see you in twenty minutes!’. The garage freezer is coming into its own.
That’s not all: I succeeded in ordering one single carrot rather than a bag of the same. And Martyn seems to have got two bags of whole, unblanched almonds, rather than the ground variety he ordered. We plainly Must Try Harder.
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