I finally, after all these years, feel very clear about who I am.
Yesterday I went to an organic market. It was interesting. Home grown aubergines, freshly plucked carrots, gluten free cookies, no wheat no sugar no fun no taste black bread and frozen green baby marrow lasagne.
When I told the owner that the lasagne was frozen, she told me that ‘people didn’t mind.’
‘But I mind,’ I told her.
‘Oh,’ she replied.
And carried on serving it.
I was hungry so I ate it and the icicles it came with and then picked up my paper plate to throw it in the dustbin.
It was then that I became confused.
The frozen marrow had to go into the composting section. The plate went into paper and the fork into plastic but I was sure they had to be bamboo because SURELY THEY COULDN’T BE USING plastic, and when I asked which dustbin to use, the organic barefooted grey haired hippie natural arrogant as fuck same frozen marrow lasagne woman told me ‘everybody knows which dustbin to use’ and I thought fuck you.
Fuck you organic lady and your hand knitted sweater and jesus sandals and no make-up and no sense of humour that you rode in on.
Fuck me also a little bit for not really caring so much about the gluten and the sugar and also for mixing up markets and landing up at the wrong market in the first place.
I thought I was going vintage.
Also, their system is from the year 1895. You buy something, you get a slip, you go to the cashier queue, you wait patiently, you don’t mind waiting for ten minutes, you get to the front of the queue, you make small talk, pay for your purchase, go back to get your goodies, start all over again, and WHY WHY can’t we just use Zappit or Shzam or technology, EVEN A CREDIT CARD for gods sake.
I am an impolite impatient sugar eating woman who wears unnatural fabrics.
I do recycle.
And I do admire you all for composting.
But please don’t push it down my fucking throat.
Because I’m already choking from the lasagna.