In the spice aisle

December 15, 2010 § 1 Comment

These things happen.

You think you’re having an okay day, as days go, and then you come round to find yourself lying on the floor of aisle thirteen in Tescos, down by the exotic spices for the curry-from-scratch crowd.

There are three staff huddled round him, with one standing and barking into his radio for an ambulance. Honestly. As if he’s some wounded soldier being helicoptered out. As he says, these things happen.

His epilepsy’s been controlled for years. He’d not say he’s forgotten it – you don’t, do you, not with the medication and the scars and the false teeth – but the longer it takes between episodes, the less times you find yourself wrung out on the floor with strangers either pulling at you or stepping round you, the more you end up pushing it to the back of your day-to-day.

He’s under pressure, though. Lots of talk of redundancies at his place, and whilst he’s not shop steward or owt like that, they’re talking about a strike and it’s been giving him some sleepless nights. Can’t afford to lose another salary, not on top of losing his wife’s.

He was only coming in for some gravy granules to go with the toad-in-the-hole and now there’s someone’s fleece under his head, and all these people fussing round.


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