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If there is one thing guaranteed to make my blood boil and turn me into a screaming, roaring sea monster, it's supermarket shopping. I find it time-consuming and totally exhausting. Oh I know I can log on to my computer and shop from home, choosing my groceries from endless lists and having the whole thing added up for me at the end, but I'm afraid although I hate it so much, I am very much a hands-on shopper. I like to squeeze my bread to see if it is fresh, inspect every apple, so there are no bruises on any of them and check that I am not taking home any dented tins. It's a shame that there is no provision next to the items you want online, to put comments such as "please squeeze for freshness" or "1lb of apples, no bruises please". With this in mind, I really do need to visit the supermarket and I'm sure I am not alone in finding the whole thing a bit of an ordeal.

When you get there, the first problem is parking. If it happens to be raining (and in England that happens a LOT) then you can bet that there are no spaces available. So your first half hour of shopping is spent driving around the car park usually behind other people who are also looking for spaces. You spot a space but of course, the person in front of you has spotted it first, so he drives in and you continue your slow crawl around the car park, swearing silently under your breath. Then you spot another space, but you notice that it is a designated Mother and baby' space. You know that you dare not park in it , not that you would, but if you did, you would be set upon by angry Mothers aiming their loaded trollies straight at your legs. They give you dirty looks as you drive past, with a glint in their eye that means "Park here if you DARE".

So round and round you go and you eventually spot a space and drive in. Then you need to get yourself a trolley and at once realise that these are the trollies that requires a coin in the slot to separate it from it's neighbour and you don't have the required coin. You search through your purse, your bag and your pockets but to no avail, you have every single coin but the one you want. Another search reveals the very thing you are looking for, a pound coin nestling in the far corners of your bag. Triumphantly you insert the coin and away you go.

As you trundle your trolley around, you begin to realise that all is not right, your trolley just won't go where you want it to go. You try to steer it to the right and it doesn't want to budge, it kind of sticks to

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