Locally the world has come to a halt as 4mm of snow blankets the ground, cars are abandoned, people struggle from supermarkets with 12 loaves of bread and the last of the sugar they fought so gallantly for before stocks expire and the food riots begin, so trapped by the severe Arctic conditions aboard my boat, I take this opportunity to report on my foraging mission into the "Area Suitably Designated Appropriate" or ASDA as my friends refer to it.
I knew entry would not be easy but nothing daunted I adopted a suitable disguise. Track suit trousers, loosely tied trainers and a 'Hoodie,' the piece de resistance, a baseball cap with the peak worn jauntily over one ear completed my ensemble..
There was a shaven headed security guard at the door, 5 feet 2 inches tall but wider, standing with his folded multi tattoed arms resting on his large gut. He was dressed all in black, wearing combat boots and a belt order that would have made the lads of 'B' Squadron stacked up on the Embassy balcony truely envious. He turned his beady eyes on me as I entered but the cleverly displayed bottle of Spring Water tucked in my back pocket fooled him into believing I was a regular forager and I entered unchallenged.
Day one of the mission went well. Loose grapes and a squashed orange from the fruit and veg area, half an abandoned Burger found by the Magazine rack all kept my energy levels up. Late in the afternoon I had a close call in the Beers and Spirits aisle where 3 scantily clad young ladies doing a 'Promotion' were offering tiny samples of various wines and little sausages on sticks. My nineteenth visit for a sausage brought a comment from one of the young ladies..I think she was from Liverpool.. I scuttled away to the surrounding safety of the tinned vegs area.
Night and closing time found me hidden under the counter of the cooked meats section. Warm and surrounded by the aroma of slowly turning Chickens in their glass fronted ovens, I nodded off.... Disaster struck in the early hours when I started eating...
Early morning Cleaners and shelf stackers found me on my back, unable to stand or even roll over, I lay like a stranded Turtle, my arms and legs waving ineffectually as the workers surveyed the empty ovens, the cleared trays that had contained Chinese flavour ready cooked chicken thighs and what remained of the trays of ready cooked Barbeque Chicken Legs.
Taken out by fork-lift and dumped without ceremony in the car park, I was told by the Manager not to enter ASDA again.
Unlike Fiona's brilliant example of actually putting into effect what others only talk about, I fear I have failed BCUK, but looking on the bright side, my Doctor has told me that I will not need to eat again until next August..
I knew entry would not be easy but nothing daunted I adopted a suitable disguise. Track suit trousers, loosely tied trainers and a 'Hoodie,' the piece de resistance, a baseball cap with the peak worn jauntily over one ear completed my ensemble..
There was a shaven headed security guard at the door, 5 feet 2 inches tall but wider, standing with his folded multi tattoed arms resting on his large gut. He was dressed all in black, wearing combat boots and a belt order that would have made the lads of 'B' Squadron stacked up on the Embassy balcony truely envious. He turned his beady eyes on me as I entered but the cleverly displayed bottle of Spring Water tucked in my back pocket fooled him into believing I was a regular forager and I entered unchallenged.
Day one of the mission went well. Loose grapes and a squashed orange from the fruit and veg area, half an abandoned Burger found by the Magazine rack all kept my energy levels up. Late in the afternoon I had a close call in the Beers and Spirits aisle where 3 scantily clad young ladies doing a 'Promotion' were offering tiny samples of various wines and little sausages on sticks. My nineteenth visit for a sausage brought a comment from one of the young ladies..I think she was from Liverpool.. I scuttled away to the surrounding safety of the tinned vegs area.
Night and closing time found me hidden under the counter of the cooked meats section. Warm and surrounded by the aroma of slowly turning Chickens in their glass fronted ovens, I nodded off.... Disaster struck in the early hours when I started eating...
Early morning Cleaners and shelf stackers found me on my back, unable to stand or even roll over, I lay like a stranded Turtle, my arms and legs waving ineffectually as the workers surveyed the empty ovens, the cleared trays that had contained Chinese flavour ready cooked chicken thighs and what remained of the trays of ready cooked Barbeque Chicken Legs.
Taken out by fork-lift and dumped without ceremony in the car park, I was told by the Manager not to enter ASDA again.
Unlike Fiona's brilliant example of actually putting into effect what others only talk about, I fear I have failed BCUK, but looking on the bright side, my Doctor has told me that I will not need to eat again until next August..
... brilliant 
