Why, oh why, oh why do people feel the need to point out the blindingly obvious and expect you to laugh?

We had decided upon a trip to the shopping centre today to finish the party shopping for Sunday’s Picnic to celebrate our little girl’s first birthday.  I wanted Sainsbury’s, so we parked in the car park next to Sainsbury’s, struggled in the rain with a sleeping toddler out of the car seat and into the buggy and went inside to shop.

Armed with my trusty shopping list and a heart infused with a mixture of enthusiasm, expectation and hope I browsed the isles looking for the remaining ingredients I need to feed about 11 children and umpteen adults for an afternoon.  Sainsbury’s didn’t have everything I wanted so I was forced into the main centre, looking for other options.

I came up with the idea that, although it is over the other side of the complex, ASDA was the way forward, so we headed off in that direction.  On the way, our little girl woke up in an amicable mood considering she was restrained and not allowed to run about as she has become fond of doing.  ASDA was busy, (probably all disappointed Sainsbury’s shoppers) and, as we had quite a number of things left on our list, we needed a trolley.  After hunting around for the trolley token I keep in my purse, we acquired a trolley and perambulated up and down the isles, slowly filling the trolley with all the items that Sainsbury’s didn’t stock.  When we got to the checkout we found that we needed the trolley to get all the shopping, plus now one very annoyed and loudly letting us know little girl, and the purchases we had already made from Sainsbury’s back to the car park on the other side of the shopping centre.

We made the trip back accompanied by the usual mix of knowing glances from parents, bemused glances from children, annoyed glances from teenagers and patronising smiles from the elderly as our child made it clear to everyone traveling in the lift with us that she was both bored and hungry and really wanted to be home, running around and playing with her toys.

We got back to the car, loaded up the shopping, got screamer into her carseat and I took the trolley to the trolley park to retrieve my token.

Here’s where the main rant starts and my mind switches from calm and well thought out to someone who has spent the last 8 hours stuck in a lift with Ant & Dec.

The trolley park only takes trolleys from Sainsbury’s customers.  I could almost see the smirking grin on the face of whoever thought of this fantastic notion.  ‘I’m sorry ASDA pleb, take your tacky little ‘ASDA cheapo’ trolley and get off our property’.  I’ve bought stuff from Sainsbury’s...in fact...I parked here specifically FOR Sainsbury’s...and if they’d had what I wanted, I wouldn’t have had to go anywhere other than Sainsbury’s, so really, it’s you own fault if customers are forced to shop elsewhere.

*That smirking face again*  I’m sorry, you must take your trolley back in order to retrieve your token.

Ah for Christ’s sake!

All the time, screamer was still telling the world how annoying the lack of freedom and toys was.

Alright, I will go all the way back to ASDA and take the trolley back, retrieve my token and come all the way back again to my car, all the while the frozen food I have bought will be defrosting, my daughter will have shattered every windscreen and set off every car alarm within a 10 mile radius and my husband will probably have been forced to take the drastic decision to drive home without me, just to stop the terrible din from the back seat.  And all because you don’t have a little bar with a chain attached and a sign informing ASDA customers that they may deposit their trolleys near to where they parked their cars.

So, back I go, feeling a complete fool pushing an empty shopping trolley back across the complex, down in a lift and all the way over to ASDA.

In this particular shopping centre there are independent vendors who stand in the middle of the walkways who accost you as you go by and try to sell you car insurance, windows, kitchens, sky TV, fill in the blank, and I tend to just look very busy and rush past muttering ‘no thank you’.  Today however a man standing in front of a fake double glazed window felt the need to impress upon me the magnitude of my predicament.  ‘Oi love, someone’s nicked yer shopping!’.

Git.