Hoist with my own petard

That phrase I used for the title is one that seems to have fallen out of use these days and some readers may not be aware of either its meaning or its provenance.  This site provides a good definition.

Many people are well aware of my view of mobile phones.  I consider them to be in the same class as credit cards - useful tools but bad masters that can prove far more expensive than they seem at first glance.  Don't get me wrong: I use a credit card a lot, but I pay off the balance in full every month.  On the other hand, I don't use a mobile phone a lot.  I have one, and I usually carry it when I am out of the house, but it generally stays switched off.  It's there in case of emergency.  I have always felt rather sorry for prople who seem to have a mobile phone permanently attached to their hand.  They wander round the park frantically keying a text message or holding a long, involved conversation - and paying absolutely no attention to what their dog is doing or even where it is.  If they are not making or receiving a call or keying a text, those poor benighted people are for ever checking their phones to see if they have a new text or email.

And I always feel superior to the folks one sees in supermarkets, peering at the shelves with phones stuck to their ears.  "There are two sorts, plain or fancy.  Which do you want?"  For goodness sake!  Can't they sort out the details before going shopping or make a decision themselves?  You wouldn't catch me doing that!

It seems to be happening more frequently now that I do the supermarket trip on my own.  This does have the advantage that I'm not squashed between the trolley pushed by the Old Bat and the shelving as she turns the corner of the aisle without making allowance for my presence.  On the other hand, I can't use the blue badge parking bays so I have to park some distance from the store in order to avoid a woman (and it always is a woman) opening the door of her car and slamming it into mine.  So this week I picked up the shopping bags and the list and called goodbye to the Old Bat who was upstairs cutting her toenails or putting rollers in her hair or something equally feminine.

As always, my first call was at the fruit and veg.  Potatoes - easy.  The cheapest, but sort through to find the mot convenient sizes.  Broccoli and French beans.  Boring.  Those are the OB's two favourite green vegetables and I am bored with them.  We eat them at most meals - but since she does the cooking I don't like to moan.  Cabbage - that's better.  Apples, bananas and on to the dairy section.  Marge.  Ah, which?  Does she want the marge that spreads easily straight from the fridge and that 90% of people think is butter or does she want the marge that Asda declare is best for baking?  I make an executive decision and pick up the former.  Milk, cream, eggs - simple.  White flour.  OK, does she mean plain or self-raising or strong bread flour?

I gave in and rang her.  Then I went back to the marge aisle and effected a swap.

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Today's music:  the original 1944 Broadway cast of Carmen Jones with Bizet's music and words by Oscar Hammerstein II.  I especially like the new words to the Toreador Song: "Stand up and fight until you hear the bell". 

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Just about a mile away from the church in yesterday's picture is the church in Stanmer.  The churches were both built/rebuilt in the 19th century, Falmer in 1817 and Stanmer in 1837, but they look completely different.