Tesco has long annoyed me with its ability to offer crap customer service whilst simultaneously making profits of about £5,000,000 per hour*. Today I went to the Tesco below my work (literally. We’re on the first floor, they’re on the ground floor) to get fruit. I had a coupon for 50 Clubcard points (which, for the benefit of foreign readers, you’d have to spend £50 to earn), redeemable against a punnet of blueberries. So I got my berries (and some pineapple, mmm) and stood in the always-long line. Got to the till and the dude scanned my coupon. Nothing. He tried again, looked at me and said ‘Um, you have to spend £5 to get this.’
Me: No. You don’t have to spend £5. You just have to buy some blueberries. Him: £2.73, please. [Scans coupon, again, nothing. Gives me my change.]
Me: That didn’t work, did it. And you knew, didn’t you.

OK, so it’s not that big a deal. But two things I hate are bad service, and people lying to me.

Do you ever look in your wardrobe and realise that all your clothing looks the same? And that the reason for this is that your clothing is pretty much all the same, or at least many items are a variation on your favourite items? The five styles I buy (and buy, and buy…) season after season, year after year, are:

Knee length, A-line skirts. There’s just something so right about them.

The perfect black T-shirt. I have some which are tight, some which are fitted but loose; plain ones, printed ones. Basically my style idol is Joan Didion in the author pic found on all her books: long bobbed hair, rock ‘n’ roll black tee, sunglasses, cigarette, gazing into the distance.

A good cardigan. I love a nice cardi, whether it’s crochet, v-neck, round neck, polyester or cashmere.

Jeans and denim skirts. Quest for the ideal denim skirt is now reaching mythical proportions, and is into its third year.

Sparkly knitted tank tops/cardigans/jumpers. Something about the combination of any fabric + lurex brings out the Bet Lynch in me.



*Tesco redeemed itself somewhat when yesterday my purchases were rung up by a nice young man whose name badge identified him as ‘Monki’.