I've been shopping at our new Edeka practically every day lately, ever since I started eating more fresh vegetables. I walk to the supermarket my own shopping basket in hand, ready to fill it with 0,2 liter bottles of diet coke, single portions of yogurt and mini-sized bags of müsli.
As much as I love shopping there, I'm still afraid I might run into my butcher "friend". I have, however, devised a strategy. I duck into the last aisle before the meat counter, pretend like I'm perusing Magi instant pork roast sauces while non-chalantely peering over the top rack to "assess the situation".
I actually haven't seen him in quite a while. I'm wondering if he is taking an intensive language course in Malta or has been transferred to an affliated store in Newcastle. Or maybe he just got fired, because his English wasn't good enough. I guess I will never know.
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Perhaps I give this Butcher an English lesson myself when I visit?? I shall teach him words like tool and moron. As in (repeat after me) "I am a moronic tool that makes Ladies angry!"
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