A shopping experience in Marseille about which I am not entirely proud: (It is difficult to not end a sentence with a preposition.) I have been in hiding since early yesterday. The grocery store was unusually quiet just before noon so I decided to use a shoppping cart rather than my roll-around basket. The carts here are quite large but the store was, as I said, rather quieter than usual. In the wine section I picked out one red and one white Bordeaux and as I rounded the corner of the aisle the tip of my cart caught the shoulder of a inexpensive bottle of white wine, one of a number that were on display at the end of the aisle. Like dominoes they all banged into one another and smashed to the floor. It was a gahastly sight. Now, at times like this we reflexively launch into defense mode and my first thought was to protest that the display didnt belong at the end of the aisle but instead I decided on a more high-brow defense and decided that if challenged I would demand to know why such cheap wine was on sale in the store in the first place. No explaination was required, they just shushed me away to take care of the disaster. Today there is no display at the end of the aisle. Score one for the American shopper.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 16:39:03 +0000
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