It was mid-morning. I turned the corner and spotted it on the middle shelf. The last pack of toilet rolls.
Should I run? No. A sedate walk. I looked around - no one.
It was mine. I decided to celebrate in the makeup aisle. It's good to cheer oneself up by looking better.
Eye lined eyes have that effect on me. It's a shock when looking in the mirror these days.
I seem to have completely disappeared behind my glasses.
And because of my eyes, it was a very close look at the beauty shelves. I almost bought a permanent eyebrow liner in orange.
As I crouched towards the eyes in subtle sable, I had an uneasy feeling.
Yes, my right knee is troublesome and I know my girth is getting in the way of a good clear bend, but this was something else.
I realised that I had carelessly left my shopping basket next to me in while searching for upliftment (my bag was safely on my shoulder).
But how could I have left my sought after treasure unattended? I grabbed the pack and squeezed it between my knees, while quickly choosing my colour.
Did I look odd, I wondered? If anything, I looked as if I needed the loo.
Yesterday a friend shared the news. She had been told by a fellow shopper to keep an eye on her rolls.
Security had warned her that packs had been shoplifted out of trolleys. So, it seems it may yet be a battle between my bag or the toilets rolls.
Which one will I fight for? I'm not sure. But just the thought of pinching a pack of six in aisle ten has left me worried.
The long-term outlook? If nothing else, a healthy set of thigh adductors courtesy the scarcity crisis.
