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A shopping expedition
Nov. 13th, 2012 10:51 amI was standing in the queue for the tills at the local supermarket when a small boy - no more than 3 or 4 years old, I'd say - burst into tears a few places ahead of me. Loud, noisy tears. The sort of wailing which you could easily mistake for an air raid siren.
There was no immediately obvious cause of this. It hadn't fallen over, nobody had punched it squarely in the face or taken sweeties off it, and so for a few seconds there was that silent air of surly resentment amongst the queue which manifests when people can't control their kids in public. People only really reacted when after a about three seconds this wailing was followed up with the most astounding torrent of explosive diarrhoea. The shock of this gushing stream was compounded by the astonishment that such a small child was actually capable of containing so much poo.
I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasant moment. A howling toddler with...well, let's agree that I've said enough on the topic. However, what followed was a glorious example of the blitz spirit and what it means to be British. The father of the child picked it up (a braver man than me, certainly, as it was still dripping) and left the shop, and then everyone just got on as if nothing had happened. The smell was indescribable, but the people queuing didn't leave and the people on the tills didn't stop serving. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
I'm guessing they waited until everyone had been served before closing up and getting the cleaners out, but hey. Keeping calm and carrying on. It's how we beat Hitler, you know.
There was no immediately obvious cause of this. It hadn't fallen over, nobody had punched it squarely in the face or taken sweeties off it, and so for a few seconds there was that silent air of surly resentment amongst the queue which manifests when people can't control their kids in public. People only really reacted when after a about three seconds this wailing was followed up with the most astounding torrent of explosive diarrhoea. The shock of this gushing stream was compounded by the astonishment that such a small child was actually capable of containing so much poo.
I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasant moment. A howling toddler with...well, let's agree that I've said enough on the topic. However, what followed was a glorious example of the blitz spirit and what it means to be British. The father of the child picked it up (a braver man than me, certainly, as it was still dripping) and left the shop, and then everyone just got on as if nothing had happened. The smell was indescribable, but the people queuing didn't leave and the people on the tills didn't stop serving. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
I'm guessing they waited until everyone had been served before closing up and getting the cleaners out, but hey. Keeping calm and carrying on. It's how we beat Hitler, you know.
