Yesterday was Thursday. Thursdays are when the Farmers Department Store usually have their sales.
As I entered the store, there was a bleeeep... Three of us were simultaneously crossing the threshhold which meant we all walked between the security poles.
Of course, the Farmers' security lady swooped on me. I'd actually made it into the lingerie department before, puffing like a steam engine, she caught up with me. Oh goodie, my physicality must be improving. Power walking, now that my plantar fasciitis was getting better, was truly paying off.
Frustrated, I threw my bag into the security lady's hands. "Take it!"
"I'll just see about deactivating this," the security lady said. And disappeared. Off to South America, who knew? If so, she wouldn't get far with what was in my bag... an umbrella,and a wallet that contained three bank cards inaccessible to anyone without a pin, and approximately $20 from my money-box; good luck, girl with that. The weight of all those 10 cent and 20 cent pieces in my shoulderbag had already given me backache getting from Miramar to Kilbirnie.
I fingered through some camisoles as I waited for her return. Oh, I'm a sucker for camisoles. I reckon that camisoles are often prettier than normal shoe-string strap summer tops -
She was back within three minutes. "Here you are. Everything's good."
Not with me, it wasn't. I stomped out of the store. Curse you, Farmers, for being one of my favourite clothes shops. I'd love to say I'm never going to darken your bleepin' door again, but, sigh, I just can't see that happening ... however, I will be jolly cross.