The only thing wrong with retirement is pensioners. The world's full of them. Go out on a week day and there they are. And to make it worse they are all old. Not a bit like myself and obviously not like Christine who is only 45!


But they are everywhere. Always as ‘we’s, two together, surely they need a break from each other sometimes. They may be sharing a scone or walking to the shops in their slippers or queuing at the post office for their pension but always they are in twos.


So what has suddenly brought on this issue with pensioners? Tesco's, that’s what. As you know we are having the official opening of the west wing next week end and for some reason I finished up with Christine, in Tesco's, looking for some food, a ‘pleasure’ I have not had since March when she banned me from ever coming food shopping with her again. A result I was quite happy with although in my defence I did not see anything wrong in suggesting that Christine also being retired now had more time to spend in the supermarket and should spend longer comparing product prices and taking advantage of the offers available. I think the problem was that I had misjudged her desire to spend any time at all in the supermarket and without me around she could be in and out in half the time.


But that’s not really what this is about, it’s the pensioners. We collect the few items that we need without any disagreement and make our way to the check out. In true customer service fashion only four of the twenty something check outs were in operation so we had to join a queue. No problem there’s only two people at one till and they haven’t many items so we join behind them.


Mistake!


He has trouble reaching the bottom of the trolley to retrieve his groceries and put them on the check out belt. It’s painful to watch, It’s like a scene from ‘Some Mothers Do Have ‘Em’ I expect him to fall head first into the trolley and then the trolley to roll off into the car park. But no, he finally gets everything out and it’s going through the till. £21.67 says the cashier and out comes his purse! Why do blokes have purses? In my sixty whatever years I have never considered using a purse paticularly one that looks more like it should be Christine's. A wallet! OK for the notes and cards but trousers have pockets surely these are for your change, not a purse. Anyway he pays the bill and now it’s our turn.


No it’s not!


All the groceries have now passed through the scanner but the other part of the ‘we’ is trying to open a carrier bag from the pile at the end of the check out. She now has a pile of five or six carriers on the counter but she can’t open any of them. Her predicament being made worse by being bombarded with the groceries as they come down the belt and pile up against the barrier where she is still trying to open a carrier. Finally success, she gets the hang of it and the groceries are packed and they walk of pushing their trolley. I look to see if they have slippers on.


I did cross my mind that instead of getting frustrated I could have helped them but if I had, I would have nothing to grumble about or even write about and having a grumble, it seems, is what I do. Maybe I am becoming Victor Meldrew like Christine and Alex say.
So out to the car park, home in five minutes.


Wrong again!.


It’s empty but there are four cars in a queue to get out. There are no cars anywhere except the four in the queue. Why are they stopped at the exit? I take a closer look at the drivers, that’s right, pensioners. Not the same ones from inside so it may not be too bad, until I check the others cars in front of me, that's right all pensioners.


So there she is in the car at the front driver’s seat pulled as far forward as possible, face three inches from the windscreen trying very hard to turn her head to see if anything is coming, I’m fifth in the queue and can see from where I am that there isn’t a another car in sight. The problem is that even after she picks up the courage to pull out there are another three pensioners behind her. But eventually she goes, I only hope she never gets up enough speed to hit anything causing her air bag to explode, it will take her head off.


We eventually get home, both of us agreeing that I am never going to Tesco's again. Christine makes a cup of tea. I butter one of the scone I managed to sneak out of Tesco's without Christine knowing. I have to share it but it’s better than nothing and the day begins to get better. I wonder if I retired too early. Am I really ready for this yet?