This Englishman in New Zealand happened to go grocery shopping this week. Up I strolled, grabbing a small trolley and entering this vast cathedral devoted to commerce. As I perused the commodities, choosing with care and dexterity, I fell victim to that global phenomenon, the supermarket sweep.
The accepted rules are known by all.
As you purposefully gravitate your trolley through the aisles, encountering other wheeled cages, swing left or right to avoid fellow shoppers, you nod in understanding and acknowledgement of mutual respect. Repeat encounters provide mirthful smiles and smirks amongst the smoked salmon. Grins and a giggle amid the ginger nuts, titters and tacit understanding by the tonics....
At the till, imbued with a sense of warmth and positivity we exchange hairdresser-like pleasantries with the checkout operator. Good Day? Weekend plans? The weather? Never straying from these safe topics of enforced proximity. And then we conclude, wheeling our trolleys to our cars, and leaving the collective camaraderie of the aisles behind us.
Unpacked and soon ensconced in our protective capsules we set off, adopting the road users' universal code. Waving and smiling gives way to tuts and a drumming of digits on the steering wheels.
Manners may maketh the man, so this Englishman in New Zealand tries not to get too stung by the bad traffic, following such sterling efforts amongst the Pinot Gris and catfood.
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