However, we had run out of fruit and vegetables, meat, milk and a multitude of other sundry groceries. Our local IGA store continues to be a source of vast disappointment. They offer a variety of excuses about the lack of certain items, such as "the truck broke down on the way to Beverley" or "the warehouse didn't send the right order" or the best "we have plenty of other milk" when I enquired as to the complete absence of fresh skim milk. Another pointless exercise is their request book. I have had my details and desired item written in the book on a number of occasions. Somehow an entry in the book never quite translates into a delivery.
Michael had a list to take to Bunnings. Now, Bunnings is normally the only retail experience Michael actually enjoys. With the preparation of his workshop space behind the shops gathering pace, he needed a myriad of equipment from a new toilet to insulation batts to sealer to bog to paint to tech screws.
We also needed vino (of course) as we have disastrously run out the previous day. And medication and anti histamines and some work clothes for Michael as some of his old jeans, tee shirts and shirts were literally falling apart. He was also in desperate straights in the sock department. Our GP had told him that his plantar warts on his foot may have been caused by friction. Most of his socks and his boots were so old he couldn't remember exactly when he'd bought them.
We had no choice. We had to go to the Big Smoke.
Fortunately we only were going as far as Midland, 100 kilometres from home, instead of further into the dreaded suburbs. We decided, after clothes shopping for Michael at Rivers, we would divide and conquer. I'd tackle Midland Gate shopping centre and Michael would go to Bunnings. Rivers had been quite enjoyable, but we had forgotten one awful truth. We were at the beginning of the second week of the school holidays.
Midland Gate was a cacophony of crying, screaming, arguing, sullen, miserable children and parents. The school holidays were obviously wearing thin for some families. On maybe some parents had thought a trip to Midland Gate was a Good Idea. Or maybe some parents had no choice about taking their children to the shopping centre. Whatever the reason, there was almost a complete lack of enjoyment by anyone there.
The noise was deafening. There were children running everywhere, teenagers whinging at parents and vice versa and parents bellowing at their various offspring. I felt like I had entered a Dante's Inferno.
And I didn't cope well. I looked at the swirling mass of adults and children around me and I couldn't help myself - I kept finding fault. Parents threatening useless sanctions if their children didn't behave. Children mouthing off and running amok. Teenagers pushing past, travelling in packs, dropping rubbish and daring onlookers to tackle their behaviour.
I couldn't wait to get out of there. I exchanged a sympathetic look with the middle aged checkout operator above the roar. I fought my way, with a full trolley, through the mayhem to our designated rendezvous point. I spotted Michael and he pulled over, with the trailer, as far as he could, so people could get past us whilst he helped me load the car. And there was room and people did go around us in their cars. Almost all of them threw us filthy looks as they did so.
Onward back to Bunnings for some gardening items I needed. This wasn't so bad as it's a vast warehouse and enough room for everyone. I had an interesting conversation with one of the staff about my lack of tolerance towards the hoards of badly behaved children I'd observed. She insisted I would grow to like children again when I had grandchildren. I wondered.
We successfully negotiated our way in and out with a minimum of fuss. Back on the highway.
Four o'clock. Not even officially peak hour yet. We pulled into the service station for fuel. Absolute madness. Cars jostling for position impatiently. We filled up and thankfully headed up the hill.
Last stop was Hills Fresh for some fruit and vegetables. At least the children in there were better behaved. Maybe because they lived on the fringe of the suburbs with plenty of space. And one of the staff helped me out to the car with the box of goodies I'd purchased. I thanked him and finally, we headed for home.
Michael and I debriefed on the drive back. He'd found Bunnings very noisy and very stressful. He couldn't believe the abusive looks he'd received when he was picking me up in Midland Gate's carpark. Where had courtesy and generosity of spirit gone? Why did shopping centres become gladiatorial arenas in school holidays? What had happened to politeness, negotiation and basic good manners? And not just from the kids. From adults as well.
My own children were not angels. They behaved badly and I dealt with them. There were times I didn't like them much and that was okay. I used reasonable, believable consequences. And I tried to notice every moment that they did "the right thing". I was a tough mother.
And they have become pretty happy, well adjusted and compassionate young adults. Who still stuff up from time to time. And they don't blame everyone else for their own disasters. They usually seek my help, dust themselves off and get on with their lives.
Why are some families like war zones? Why do I feel that some children are out of control? That some teenagers are selfish, surly and rude. That some adults react with rage in shopping centres, in car parks, in service stations. Where have "please" and "thank you" gone? And smiles of shared understanding.
I find myself becoming intolerant towards some people's behaviour. I don't like bad behaviour from anyone and I don't see why I should put up with it. Except that those who behave badly seem to be outnumbering those of us who don't. I am not religious in the least, but whatever happened to - do unto others as you would like them to do unto you.
And then, maybe, the world would be a happier place and I would not be so intolerant!
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