Wright On! Shelley Wright takes a wry look at life
YESTERDAY I called in to see a friend who works in one of East Lancashire's many shops to find her surrounded by a gang of pensioners on a mystery tour.
I must admit she looked pretty fed up as she deflected yet another inquiry as to where the toilets were, shouting sarcastically in French over Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody as it belted out through the in-store PA and openly despairing as people unravelled neatly folded towels and bed linen for as far as the eye could see.
Only it wasn't the questions, or the music, or what the eye could see that was getting her down - the problem was more to do with what was right under her nose, if you know what I mean.
You see, it seems festive shopping trips are a recipe for disaster where my mate and her colleagues are concerned and, without wanting to sound like a party pooper, she reckons the addition of Christmas lunches - or sprouts to be more specific - only makes things worse.
"People come in here," she fumed, "wander around for an hour, go for their Christmas lunch and then come back and, well, you know, non-stop all afternoon."
It seems people have been making their presence smelt all over the store every minute of every day for the past three weeks - and no one is amused.
Except me. I thought it was hilarious.
And you've got to admit, it's one of the only things in life that's always guaranteed to raise a smile no matter who you are or how old you are too.
Though I don't know why do you? People don't laugh when you cough or sneeze or accidentally crack a joint, so goodness knows why people find this particular bodily function such a wheeze. But it has become such a national obsession that a book on the subject stormed into The Sunday Times top ten paperback bestsellers list this week after selling more than 2,000 copies.
What's going on there?
"Everything you really could do without knowing," it says - so why do we want to know? Is there really anything worse?
I mean, if you get a sniff that something's wrong, you're basically breathing in the by-product of human digestion. Gas making a break for freedom because the pressure has got too high, so to speak.
I've been in queues when people have done it and, even worse, I've been in lifts and changing rooms when people have committed similar offences against the nose.
And a colleague here spent a particularly embarrassing morning in the hairdresser last week when his two-year-old twins did it all the way through their cut and blow.
Well, that's his story - and he's sticking to it, OK? He'll be blaming the dog next thing we know.
But what can you do anyway? You've got to breathe no matter what the air quality is like. And people can't help it - unless, of course, you count those who have just started going out with someone and are living in that temporary zone where picking your nose or burping the theme tune to Coronation Street is also banned.
But everyone has to succumb at some point or they'd probably burst like an over-inflated helium balloon.
And then my mate would have something to moan about eh?
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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