It’s been a quieter week this week, mainly
because I haven’t had internet due to moving house, so I will start with a
ridiculously horrendous tale involving 1 tin opener …or not as the case may be. I realised once I had arrived at my new house
that I’d completely forgotten to pack my tin opener. Oh well, I thought, not
really an important utensil. Until I realised that it was the most important utensil
of the modern world. When attempting to open my tin of Tuna after cooking a jacket
potato for approximately 2 hours, I realised this to be true! HEAVENS! It was
difficult not to curse.
Having only £10 to my name at the time of
the tin opener crisis, I refused to spend £4 on a tin opener (which was the
going rate). £4 on having the ability to open a tin? Nope, not today, not ever.
It’s almost as bad as having to pay for tampons, these things in life WE NEED!
So, I went to the pound shop, thanking
London along the way for providing such a fantastic shop that enabled me to
basically live (and breathe) in this city, and bought what I can only describe as
a sharp pointy stick - similar to that of a knife. It was awful and my hands
felt awful for using it. I mean, what even is this...
As I washed away the blood from various cuts I had
received, I imagined a world where tin openers were everywhere, and attached to
EVERYTHING. A dream is still a dream so I decided to shop around and try to get
a cheaper tin opener ….then the dreaded £4.
The breakthrough came upon entering a Tesco
express on the evening of Monday 8th September 2014 in Walthamstow.
Wonders of all wonders I had found a tin opener for the incredibly reasonable
price of £1. SOLD to the girl with the huge smile upon her face, victory is
mine I thought. I took the tin opener to the counter, paid for my goods which
also consisted of a bag of lettuce and some chewing gum, and left with a smile
on my face thanking the distracted sales assistant as he packed my bag for me.
How kind.
I raced home, looking forward to taking the
new packaging off my brand spanking new (and cheap) tin opener, and as I popped
the Tesco’s bag on the work top and opened the plastic, a sense of euphoria came
upon me. I took out the lettuce and
chewing gum expecting to see the most amazing site in all of my 29 years, when instead
I saw something truly horrific. There was no tin opener in the bag! WHAT? Where
is it?!?! I looked all around the house, even though I had only walked about 6
steps from the front door. It wasn’t there. It was gone. I then remembered one
crucial piece of information. The man behind the counter had packed my bags …and
he had left the tin opener out!
Moral of the story, don’t move house.
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