There are many lovely shops in London. Boutiques, high street, designer, up market, market, Harrods, Selfridges, Fortnum and so on. However, there is only really one store that I get uber happy in on a daily basis: Waitrose.
The produce is fresh, they have a fantastic range of organic foods, great range of baby goods (bonus!) but more important than that, the service if fabulous. The staff are so motivated, helpful, and actually look and act like they want to be there. And I love how they call all their staff ‘partners’. They get a yearly bonus if the company profits- which they always seem to do.
Plus they have this super swell self scan thingy where you can scan and shop to your heart’s desire and skip the long queues.
And they have a cute cafe, along with kitchen/home&bath/fashion/electrical/babies/toys/beauty sections upstairs.
Who woulda thought I would be so happily and enthusiastically in love with a supermarket?!
I snuck in a phone camera shot this morning. A bit embarrassing as I am normally one to snicker at those who take photos of food in shops – I recalled the time when a bunch of young asians went camera crazy at Adriano Zumbo’s patisserie in Balmain and had to laugh at myself for doing it. But I did it for you guys in Oz- all for the sake of blogging and sharing with you my supermarket experience…
Chose the choc macaroon with raspberries and the strawberry frasier to have with a friend for afternoon tea.
I know, I know! The Easter resolution to eat nutritious food six days a week was not really very realistic. Reach for the stars and all that jazz, but when you love to eat as much as I do, it’s not good for the soul to deny yourself of life’s simple pleasures. And besides, I very much agree with Hamlet’s train of thought that there is
Nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so.
Amazing M’s bath water is running as I write this. Was yet another fun filled day, but gotta say- a little wearing, as she napped for only forty minutes in total (twenty of which was on the way to wonderful Waitrose).
Thank the Universe for my Mr B. He is bathing her now and I can write this guilt free. Ah, the ghastly guilt that mothers feel! That’s another post for another time.