PEEL ME A GRAPE -- said Mae West.

The point of this pic has to do with supermarkets. Ordinarily, I never see out-of-season produce such as these grapes. Our local supermarket is what you might call "adequate." The people who work there are darlings but their veggies are dire, the variety of everything is very limited and their chocolate is stale. Make that barely adequate.

The next nearest one is in town and is one of a huge chain. The management is a law unto itself. The people who replace stock on shelves are pushy and cranky. This chain will stock things for six months or a year, and then drop it. I go there because it is the nearest. It is deadly dull and I hate it.

Today, however, I wanted some pretties neither place stocks. I wanted ditsy packets of dried porcini and such like as token gifts to put into the post. A friend recommended the Coop. Off we went. It was a fair distance, but it was vast. I went right out of my mind instantly. The array of veggies was enormous. These grapes looked so pretty I snaffled them into a bag. I have to admit a blip sprang to mind. I found the dried porcini -- produced in Bulgaria as it turned out -- smoked salt, porcini stock cubes, oh, joy, and the varieties of dried beans I had not seen for years.

Himself was a bit of a pill, I have to say. He stood back, arms folded, while I tried to find things. I hate being watched. In the end I got so nervous I gave up with many an aisle unexplored.

"What was with you?" I asked when we got into the car.

"I wanted to get home before dark," he said.

"Then you shouldn't have nattered so long on the telephone before we left," I said bitterly.

"I'll take you back tomorrow," he said.

Well, I don't want to go back, do I? For one thing, they use drag trolleys as an option to the standard cart. They make a dreadful noise and people whip around the aisles like Formula One drivers. I don't see the point. You have to to drop things down into them, then you have to bend down to retrieve them once at check out. I think people like the noise they make.

The people who stock the shelves are even crankier than at the usual supermarket and worse, they restock via metal trays and trolleys. The trays snap back with a crack that sounds like a rifle shot. They love doing it. I left that shop shell shocked and with bruised ankles from the floor trolleys. It will be days before I recover. (I'm joking, was fully recovered instantly.)

The grapes are sitting on a piece of glass with two small ordinary torches pointing up underneath. The LED was too blue.