Groceries

It was a pleasant surprise to find the supermarket quiet this morning. We weren’t buying groceries, that was something to do online later. We’d popped in to buy a light bulb, mould remover and trainers for a grandson. Oh, and birthday cards in advance. I was trying to be organised. One stop shopping. How times have changed.

When I was about ten years old, I was often sent to Seddon’s with a list. Seddon’s was a small grocery shop not far from our pub, but far enough away to make me feel independent and grown up to do something important by myself. The list was my mum’s order, which Mr Seddon would deliver on Saturday. Sometimes, I would be sent there to get a Hales Granny Cake, or a chocolate sponge to bring home and the cost to be added to our list. We had a milkman and a breadman every day. Meat came from the local butcher.

I don’t know when branded supermarkets started to take over, but I remember a Tesco store opening on the high street in our neighbourhood when I was about fourteen. It was small in comparison to the megastores we have now.

I’m not a fan of food shopping, especially if it involves a long walk up and down too many heavily populated aisles. That’s another pet hate, people and shopping trolleys. I find it easier in Scotland where our regular supermarket is smaller but still has everything. I’m in a happier frame of mind there, too. At home, picking groceries online and taking delivery from a friendly, helpful person is hassle free and suits me perfectly. There’s a local shop for that forgotten item.

My Haiku style poem,

Tesco, Morrison’s,
Aldi, Lidl and Waitrose,
Sainbury’s and Spar.

Booths and the Co-op,
M&S Foodhall, Asda,
Iceland and Farmfoods.

No shopping today,
We don’t need more groceries.
We’ve got plenty in.

Room for just one more,
Tins of this and tins of that.
Shut the cupboard door.

Veg and fish and meat,
A freezer full to bursting,
Ice cream for a treat.

PMW 2026

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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On the Doorstep - Stretford 1958

Stretford, 1958, me, my mum, my nanna and my great grandmother, Nanna Polly grouped together for a family photograph on the doorstep of Nanna Polly’s house. I can remember being shuffled about to place everyone exactly right, and wearing my beautiful dress made by my other nanna. Our four generations, never to happen again, which makes the photograph all the more special.  Nanna Polly passed away the following year then ten years later my mum died which broke the links in the chain.

It has been a year of everything being placed on our doorstep, quite literally.  On a personal level, Covid 19 changed the way we live and the way we shop. We’ve done grocery shopping online for years. This has increased to the, butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, or that’s how it sometimes seems.

The first lockdown brought me fear and worry as we stayed at home, shielding from the outside world. One day, there was a wonderful surprise that started with a message from our niece.

“I bet you a million pounds there’s a shoebox outside your front door.”

What? Of course, I went to look. On the doorstep was a shoebox, with a note wishing us well and hoping we enjoy the contents. It was jam packed – including jam – with all the tasty goodies to put together an afternoon tea with lots of extra treats.

I was overwhelmed. Our niece, a busy NHS frontline worker, adored by us all, had gone to such trouble to make us this fantastic gift which was very welcome. I didn’t see her or hear her drive away. What a special lady, our angel. I think she made one for her mum, too. If you’re reading this, Jo, we salute you.

Good old Amazon, I couldn’t have managed Christmas without you. Day after day, another parcel delivered and placed on the doorstep as I organised gifts for the family and planned some sort of socially distanced Christmas Dinner at our house.

I’m the only survivor of my four generations.  I’m in awe of the strength of character my nanna and great grandmother must have had to endure two world wars and all the hardship and heart break that life threw at them. Both of them lost children in infancy. My great grandmother was only twenty-seven when she was widowed and lost her five year old daughter all within a fortnight.  I’m proud to be standing on that doorstep, surrounded by their love. I hope they’ve passed some of their northern grit down to me.

I found this poem by Thomas Hardy,

On the Doorstep
The rain imprinted the step’s wet shine
With target-circles that quivered and crossed
As I was leaving this porch of mine;
When from within there swelled and paused
A song’s sweet note;
And back I turned, and thought,
“Here I’ll abide.”

The step shines wet beneath the rain,
Which prints its circles as heretofore;
I watch them from the porch again,
But no song-notes within the door
Now call to me
To shun the dripping lea
And forth I stride.

Thomas Hardy, written in January, 1914 – and I wanted to add, ‘Yep, out you go!’

(If you remember the photo, apologies for using it again, though it was ages ago.)

Thanks for reading, stay safe, Pam x

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