Time to venture out to the supermarket with the help of my retired father, Pops, who seems to think that being in a wheelchair entitles us to preferential treatment.
All went well until we got to the checkout, when the first WIDE AISLE (of two) was not open. A staff member pointed us to the other one, which was, naturally, at the other end of the line of 45 checkouts. We wheeled past checkout after checkout but Pops just couldn't see that WIDE AISLE.
So, in the middle of the floor, at the top of his voice, he yells, ‘WIDE AISLE, WIDE AISLE.’ Every single person in the store swivelled to look at us. People were coming out of the store rooms to see what the commotion was. Indeed, I believe the traffic on the A40 paused in its' flow.
As I buried my burning red face in my hands and the shopping trolley, my father harangued a shop assistant about our need for a WIDE AISLE. Unfortunately, the assistant was a little slow to understand our problem, so a few other customers joined in with words about Pops needing a WIDE AISLE for the 'poor thing' to get through.
Finally, they open the WIDE AISLE just for me! My completely unabashed father sashays through - totally oblivious to my mortification. I did manage to stutter, ‘ Pops - how could you?!’ To which he replied, ‘what do you mean?’ All wide eyed innocence.
Why I should be surprised, I don't know. This is the same man, who, on ramming my wheelchair into the back of someone's legs, said, ‘well they should look where they are going, shouldn't they?’ Ignoring my ‘without eyes in the back of their head’ riposte.
MEMO to self and others: the internet is a wonderful thing – use it and be nice to your dad.
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