The View from Parson Street Nose

"Dad, Dad, can I have a toy? Mum always lets me have a toy when we're in Wilkos."

"I don't think she does, Todd." Little Todd's father had made the mistake of using the toy aisle as a short-cut.

His son dug his heels in, refusing to move. "Dad! Ben10! Dad!"

"What on earth…?" I gasped, grabbing a shelf as two little girls came barrelling round the corner. Shrieking at the top of their lungs, they almost succeeded in knocking me over in their haste to reach 'Moshi' whatever that was.

"Half-term, love," said a woman pausing next to me and grinning. "You all right? You wants to only venture out if you have to on half-term. There was a right little hoodlum outside just now kicking seven bells out of a rubbish bin he was, while his mum was yakking away on her phone. I blames the parents… " Tutting to herself the woman wandered away, shaking her head.

I hoped it may be a little more low-key in the St Peter's Hospice shop. As I squinted at the faded lettering on a milk jug, a hand zoomed across the front of me, grabbed something and reeled it in so fast I didn't have a hope of registering if I'd just missed the find of a lifetime or not.

"Oh, I likes this, Haze. In 'e lovely? Cept for that face on the front of it – I can't be doing with looking at that all the time."

I tried to see over her shoulder at what the two women were ogling but just caught a glimpse of colour.

"Well," said Haze. "The back of its nice, you could always put him face down so you don't 'ave to look at 'im."

The other woman let out a delighted screech. "I wish I could do that with our Ken," she guffawed. "Come on, before we goes to the counter, let's look at the books, see if they's got 50 Shades of Sex."

"'Aven't you read that yet, Kim? You can borrow mine if you's desperate."

"Desperate? I's gaggin' – you's seen ar Ken." And off she went again into peals of laughter.

I was so close to Lidl, I thought I'd saunter down and get some more wool.

A teenaged girl was singing to herself, oblivious to the other shoppers where she was so caught up, draped over the trolley, eyes closed, swaying away to her music.

"Destiny," said her mother. "Bring that trolley over. Destiny! Destiny!" Her mother stalked across the aisle, seizing her daughter's ear plugs she yanked them out.

"Stop yowling and help me with the shopping, or I don't know why you're here. When you're famous you can pay someone to do the shopping for me. But right now you're not. So get pushin' and fetch some of those yoghurts you like. Go on."

Groaning as if she was shoving an ox cart, young Destiny trundled away.

"Teenagers!" said her mother, shrugging at me. "Tell me they get better."

I laughed. "Mine didn't," I said, "but they did leave home eventually."  

Destiny's mother let out a rib-raising sigh. "If only," she said, picking up a pair of leggings.