Anti-Tesco

Tesco. I hate the place. This is big when you consider the only other thing I could use the word "hate" for is Manchester United. I don't hate easily. I won't shop in Tesco, I won't even visit it with others who want to shop there. I feel slightly ill at the thought of walking around those long aisles full of fake food. It is fake, have you ever actually stopped and tasted the stuff?

Really? Next time you are eating your Tesco's Finest lasagne or whatever they process these days, ignore the packaging with it's delectable cuisine photography and rich colours and concentrate on the actual product inside. Still yum yeah? If so, you've obviously been brought up on the stuff and never experienced a home-made, fresh lasagne made with care.

My hatred of Tesco has stretched to the appearance of the place. Summed up nicely by Ross Clark of The Spectator:

Suddenly I can’t stand that ghastly blue and red logo, which reminds me of the Co-op in the 1970s. Like the Daily Mail, I hate the way every tree for half a mile around any Tesco store is strewn with fragments of its plastic bags. I hate the smell of its in-store bakery. I can’t stand its speckled orange flooring, and the way all its stores now have to be cheap imitations of Norman Foster’s terminal at Stansted airport.

Link to article

I used to shop at Tesco all the time. It's the nearest supermarket to both my house, my workplace and at one point, my girlfriend's flat. It also seems to be the nearest one to everyone else, which just couldn't be true but it could be that way very soon. In fact I envisage Tesco homes soon. Apartments inside the retail space. After all you can already get a mortgage from them, take out life insurance and possibly Tesco funerals. You can already use points from your clubcard off your funeral. Even in sport, Everton Football Club have agreed a deal with Tesco to build their new stadium on the retail park of a new superstore.

And the clubcards. They try to persuade you that getting 20 cents off a packet of sausages is a good deal in exchange for details on all of your shopping habits which is then used by a company to make a profile of your lifestyle; how likely you are to respond to special offers, how loyal you are to particular brands and then build it into a profile where they can guess what you do for a living, the size of your family, how far you drive etc etc.

I'd rather buy my sausages off the butcher, thanks.

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Tatterdemalion. It sounds like a curse word but it isn't so I feel ok using it. Tatterdemalion! You know how it goes. Life is fine, sailing along, the expected tumults turn out to be slight (disappointing)hiccups and you are left with a sense of unfulfilled expectation. My dad is gone now and I'm not missing him much. I suppose the fact that he's met another guy out there to watch the football with makes me feel relieved that he's not going to be lonely. I did miss him watching the Champions League semi with me though. :(



In other news, I went to Paris without the aid of drugs. Which was unthinkable for me a few years ago. It's a pretty good achievement which I managed to do all on my own, without therapy. *pats self on back* Paris was really beautiful, not a patch on Rome though. We stayed in the Latin Quarter, in a quaint hotel around a flowery, enclosed garden. I discovered that Ernest Hemingway lived in the flat opposite the gate. Walking down to Notre Dame was surreal. It was nothing like I imagined. The Eiffel Tower was a let down. So was the Louvre. I just loved the atmosphere of the city, the content of my history books playing out in my imagination along the streets. Especially so on the bicycle tour... At one point, in the shimmering spring sun, we leaned on the handlebars and stood in the grounds of the Louvre admiring the architecture when a air-raid siren sounded off across the city. Nobody flinched. I as slightly concerned at the noise because I recognise an emergency siren when I hear one! Our guide informed me that it was a drill, every first Wednesday of the month. Odd moment.

You know when stuff happens and you know it's not a simple coincidence? You know it's not as random as it looks? That there's a reason for it? It's a sign, a clue to help you discover your path. Well, I've got one. And it's major. And I love it.