Becky doesn’t say things about … Dominic Cummings

Now, I promised myself I wouldn’t get all political or ranty or commenty in these posts, so I’ll refrain from banging on about recent events and certain Chief Advisors, and I won’t use phrases like ‘heinous liar’ or ‘despicable hypocrisy’, or words like ‘ballsack’ or ‘phlegmwad’, and I won’t make a comment on what I think about his ‘statement’, and

so I think the best thing is to move all that to one side and talk about shopping, and nothing else but shopping.

So, as we’ve heard this week, in announcements that were in no way rushed out to deflect from Skeletor’s lockdown minibreak, shops are opening from the middle of June and we can all go back to filling our boots with those non-essential items.

Have I missed shopping? I’ve missed browsing. I love a browse. Pootling about in John Lewis picking up and putting down all those beautiful things I desperately want but can’t afford and have no use for is one of life’s joys, and I’ve definitely missed squirting myself with 73 tester perfumes and wafting around choking passers-by with my heady musk, but I’m not sure I’ve missed the expensive impulse buys or the misguided decisions that seem to lose their gloss once you get them home.

But, in the same way as we’ve found ourselves doing things we never considered doing – hands up who’s sick to death of sponging down their yoghurts when you get them out of the Sainsbury’s bag – shopping trips will look a little different.

For starters, you do realise that on every casual trip to M&S to buy some new pants you’re going to get sucked into an Ikea-style one-way vortex of doom, don’t you? You know the sort: you want to escape it, but you can’t. 

And if you drift past the pants because you’re too busy listening to a song on your phone like, I don’t know, Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word, then you do realise you’ll have to traipse all the way back to the beginning and start again, no matter how inconvenient that is?

Waterstones has said it will put books that have been tainted by the virusy caress of the public into a special quarantined vault for 72 hours. At least this is a better rule than ‘You touch it, you buy it’.

If you’re in need of a new car, showrooms are apparently open from next week, and to prevent virusy close contact, we’ll be able to test drive cars without a pesky car salesman in tow, which opens up a world of possibilities.

The bad news is that toilets will remain shut. This is awful news. I drink a lot of water. My entire life is a continual quest to find the next toilet. If there are no toilets, I will either have to dehydrate myself for two days prior to my shopping trip, or just bite the bullet and get some Tena Lady pants – but I suppose if, for example, a four year-old can manage a 260 mile journey without once needing the toilet, then I can manage a trip to Primark to replace the leggings that have perished through 74 consecutive days’ wear. Or I might even buy something different.

So the moral of the story is, fill your boots, wash your hands, stay alert, follow those rules and crank up the economy by getting yourself to your nearest shopping centre. Or your farthest shopping centre. I hear Durham has a good one.

See, I made it all the way to the end without once mentioning Dominic Cummings!

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