A Lidl CAN Mean A Lot

They often say bad things happen in threes, so I should have been worried before this task even got going! I’d hardly cycled half a mile of my 8 mile journey to get Mr D’s shopping, when I came spinning off my bike into the road. Thankfully, a bloodied elbow, a broken chain and some bruises to my confidence were all that came from my tumble (plus a massive thank you to the policeman and the staff at Nationwide in Hammersmith for patching me up and making sure I was okay despite social distancing etc).

Back home I had to go, and a quick drop off of the bike and a grab of the car keys later, my bandaged arm and I arrived at Mr D’s, only two minutes late! Mr D had a laryngectomy, which meant he was particularly vulnerable and needed assistance with his shopping. He gave me his list and his money and I went across the road to join the queue to Lidl’s.

Bad thing number two was to occur. Yes, a 32 minute line to get into the supermarket isn’t exactly a ‘lidl’ wait or particularly great, but it’s 2020 we are living in, and I’ve become almost immune to the queues that are now a part of daily life. No, the bad thing was the gust of wind that decided to take both the shopping list and the envelope with his £20 note in on a ride down the A4020. Frantically I ran like a mad woman down the road trying to chase after two bits of paper, flying off in opposite directions, (while the line to the supermarket watched in amusement). I managed to rescue both, and luckily was able to slot myself back into the queue.

Finally I’d made it into Lidl and managed to get every-tin from Mr D’s list, apart from the soup (apparently they don’t have mushroom for that flavour, so it was tomato or carrot and coriander only). Goods payed for and bagged up, I walked back to Mr D’s. Can anything and else go wrong? Yes it CAN - bad thing number three. The bag split. And some Mr D’s tins came rolling out into the street. Luckily there was nothing breakable, and I managed to pick them up and half walked, half juggled the rest of the journey back to Mr D’s.

I apologised for the lack of intact shopping bag, but Mr D didn’t mind at all. We had a bit of a chat (slightly one-sided due to the laryngectomy but we could still communicate easily); he had left me a lovely message asking me what it was like to be young and was telling me about how many moons ago he was in the para’s and pointed to his many medals on the jacket hung behind the door. It was the ending to an almost disastrous mission that I needed, and Mr D was glad to have his shopping done and some company (although not for long, and, as per social distancing rules and regs, I was 2m away from his doorstep). Wat-er mission. It didn’t always go to plan, but I left feeling a Lidl Sweetener than I did before. Thank you Mr D!