I\u2019ve always had a penchant for an Irish maximalist superstore experience. A place where you\u2019d get lost in the aisles of produce, sometimes delicious and exquisite, sometimes utter crap, where you could wander around for hours and wouldn\u2019t see the same person twice. <\/p>\n
I would wait with bated breath for my mother\u2019s weekly invitation of \u201cwho wants to go to big Tesco?\u201d with the same seam-bursting excitement as I would on Christmas Eve. <\/p>\n
We\u2019d pile into the family Volvo, once the homework and bowls of spaghetti bolognese were cleared from the table, and we\u2019d sail off into the early evening, bags for life and delirious children in tow. <\/p>\n
The car doors would open, and we\u2019d spill out into the car park, through the revolving doors into the Mecca that was Tesco Extra on Knocknagoney Road in Belfast. <\/p>\n
I feel the same way about supermarkets as I do about going to the cinema. You decide that you will, temporarily, step out of this mortal coil and into a place where time stands still. <\/p>\n
Gone are the outside maladies of work, school or any of that other stressful stuff, because, for a brief moment, you exist only to browse, fantasise and feed. Heatwave outside? It\u2019s a chilled interior, a calming breath. Stressful day at work? Let your troubles dissipate in the cereal aisle. <\/p>\n
I\u2019ll never get overwhelmed with the fluorescent lighting, the metallic jangling of trolleys or the static of the loudspeaker. Quite the opposite \u2013 I relish the discomfort of the endless aisles and the gormless teenager stacking shelves. This little ecosystem hums along as I float, blissfully and aimlessly, through. <\/p>\n
I\u2019ve got favourites. I rank as follows: French, German, Irish and a UK Marks & Spencer up there too. French for their endless assortments of mayos and biscuits, German for their bread sections and their whirring abattoir of slicing machines, Irish for Dunnes (obviously). <\/p>\n