mostly david ephgrave

Today I had the embarrassing experience of not realising I didn’t have my wallet with me whilst shopping at the supermarket until I after I’d scanned everything at the self-service checkout. To make things worse, I only had twenty minutes before the shop was set to close, which wasn’t long enough to walk back home to get it. In the end, my wife came to my rescue; driving down with it, while I stood in the foyer like a gimp. I’ve never felt more conspicuous; I may as well have held up a sign with the word ‘INEPT’ emblazoned on it; I’m amazed I can even dress myself. Even though we live five minutes away, the time it took my wife to arrive felt like an eternity, purely due to my embarrassment. Each person who came up to the checkout gave me a strange look, as if they couldn’t for the life of them work out while I was standing there, all uncomfortable, with my unpaid for shopping at my feet, Thankfully it wasn’t too busy at the tills, or a massive que...

There’s a woman who works in my local Caffè Nero who openly forces me to make positive comments about her on their online survey, every time I go in-store. It’s got to the point where I dread going in, for fear that she might be accost me. She does it in a friendly way, if such a thing is possible, but is no less insistent – and to make things worse, any time I visit after saying something nice (as promised), she tells me I didn’t bother to fill it in. Surely there's something wrong with this arrangement? Aren't I supposed to give feedback voluntarily? I also thought the survey was meant to be anonymous; while it presumably technically is, what I say isn’t , as if I put anything either way, be it good or bad, she’ll clearly know it’s me. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, and if I do do it, I’m still damned, as I’m told I didn’t do it when I did. My life’s as confusing as it is stressful, and the caffeine intake isn’t helping eithe...

In the six days I've been in Venice, I've not seen a single supermarket. You're fine if you're after a Commedia dell'arte mask, a Murano glass ornament, or a snow globe of a gondolier - but if you're looking for groceries, you'll be sorely disappointed. It actually doesnt have to be a supermarket. Any shop that sells food basics would do. I'm not out to buy a fake Gucci handbag (which, bizarrely, you can pick up right outside the Gucci shop), but stuff one with cakes and biscuits and you might rouse my interest. If we'd been here for five days as we'd originally planned, it wouldn't be a problem. Thanks to EasyJet, our honeymoon was extended by two nights. Consequently, we've now reached the point where, given the choice, we'd much rather fend for ourselves. I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so don't make me. The restaurants here are lovely. I'm a big fan of Italian food. I also like variety. Venice i...

I popped into my local garage yesterday to buy some essentials. All was well, until the time came to pay. The cashier, who had been in hysterics with the customer in front, only asked me if I wanted a receipt. It made me feel very inadequate. Was it the way I look? Perhaps my face doesn't encourage banter. I always try to be friendly and upbeat when I'm in the midst of a transaction. Maybe that’s where I go wrong; what’s meant to create the impression of a pleasant, well-rounded individual probably makes me look like an axe-wielding maniac. Maybe he disapproved of my shopping. I can’t see why. There’s nothing offensive about a bottle of orange juice and a smoothie, even if you mix them together. He could have known the man in front, of course. Actually, that’s probably what it was. Either way, I think I’ll prepare a little slapstick routine for when I return. I won’t be happy until I’m known as BP’s funnest customer.

For some reason I'm never able to make people understand what I’m saying. It happens all the time, so much so that I’ve started to account for it. I’ll walk into a situation with a readily-prepared statement in my head – and consciously take my time when saying it; trying to allow for the inevitable confusion that follows in my wake. Even all this forward-thinking doesn’t seem to help; more often than not, I still end up with conversational egg all over my face. It occurs most frequently in bars and restaurants. A good example took place a couple of months ago. I’d met up with a friend in a local pub - and, as I’m generally not drinking alcohol at the moment, I decided to have a hot drink instead. I walked up to the side of the bar where the coffee machine was situated. Behind it stood a big sign that said ‘Speciality Teas Available’. I’m a bit of a herbal tea nut, so this was right up my street. A surly, monosyllabic barm...