We have a wonderful “health food” shop just up the road – well stocked, everything you could possibly ask for and lots of stuff you don’t want to know about.
We shop there a lot – the fresh fruit and veges are excellent, they have wonderful fresh bread every day, and if you get there at the right time the really expensive meat is reduced cos they’re a couple of days away from the use by date and they really need to get rid of it.
Which is of course the issue with all these places – they’re bloody expensive. But I don’t mind paying for, for example, carrots that taste like the ones that came out of my Dad’s garden instead of the woody dull specimens in the shop over the road.
So I’ll cop the prices, but what REALLY gives me the shits is the freshly washed maidens serving (and it’s all females) – they all look and talk like they were head prefects five minutes ago, with their clean light blue uniforms and lovely smiles and robo-speak salutations. I just wish they’d show a bit of something real and non-perfect, something that goes with the “health food shop” thing of being “natural”.
OK, that’s all, as you were, back to the Depeche Mode re-releases and obscure Scando jazz duos and long lost New Zealand pikelet recipes…