Veggie Soup for the Vertically Challenged
I sense a sparkle in the eyes of those of you who are below the 1.8 metre mark. That's 6 feet for those of you who, like me, struggle to comprehend height in metres. I exaggerate perhaps, but really most North European men appear to be more than a head higher to someone barely a few inches above the 5 feet mark. The North European women, although shorter than men, have an excellent relationship with their heeled shoes. This special relationship is usually developed, as I have been reliably informed, in their teenage years.
Alas, this post is not about a super-soup that will help us pygmies gain height but rather about the woes of one who lost her 'reach'.
The incident occurred some time ago on a Saturday evening. I was returning home from a social event and decided I was a little hungry. Being on an eat-healthy drive I headed to the M and S at Waterloo in search of a light bite. I immediately made a beeline for the tinned soup section and scanned the shelves for the vegetarian options. There were two: cream of tomato and mixed vegetable, both on the topmost shelf.
There are some moments in adult life when you are perfectly aware of the consequences of potentially unwise actions. This was one of them. I looked up at the stacked tins and judged that if I stretched up a few inches I could just about reach and grab the base of the Cream of Tomato tin. In my mind I worked out a contingency 'catch position' in case it slipped. I then proceeded to reach for it.
However what I did not calculate was that the tin below it could also move if I didn't lift the top one adeptly. Indeed that bottom tin, taking advantage of my oversight did not only move, but rather smugly rolled down and bounced off the side of the shelf with a clank before hitting the floor. As my attention was momentarily taken by the rolling tin, I forgot what my 'target tin' was doing and looked up just in time to see it falling purposefully towards my face. I would be lying if I said my life flashed in front of me but it would be fair to say that I did not feel too calm.
Luckily my brain was talking to my neck while I was trying not to panic, and it (the neck not the brain) turned backwards just in time for the side of the 'target tin' to hit my lip and teeth before plonking to the ground. Surprisingly I felt no immediate pain except the pain of stupidity. An M&S-jacketed person dashed towards me and enquired if I was okay. I picked up the can from the floor, stared at it numbly and said "It fell on me as I tried to lift it". He apologised profusely, offered help and stared at my lip. By this time I could taste blood in my mouth.
Me: I think I hurt my lip. I can feel it swelling.
Shop Assistant: Yes it looks swollen but really its not that bad
Me: Are you sure? Can you see blood?
Shop Assistant: No, really it doesn't look that bad. Is it hurting?
Me (Now with a crumpled tissue out of my pocket): Its bleeding, I can taste it!
Shop Assistant (Handing me some M&S napkins): Do you need any first aid/ plaster?
Me (still clutching the target tin and feeling dazed and silly): Okay
Shop Assistant: Its just a little swollen but not looking bad, really.
At which point I switched on my I-phone camera, pointed it to myself and tried to check how bad it looked. Reassuringly it looked like someone had punched me on the lip but otherwise not too bad. All teeth appeared intact! A few minuted later, as a guy came out of the back office I declined the plaster (I mean who puts a plaster on a lip??) The assistant couldn't find any ice so I continued dabbing the tissue to stop the bleeding, only realising much later that it was the inside of the lip that was worse hit than the outside. The shop assistant saw that I was still clutching the soup tin (I wasn't about to let it go after ALL THAT EFFORT) so he offered to take me to the front of the queue.
The only thing was that I had my back to people and they couldn't see the reason for the special treatment so I had to turn sideways and grimace and contort my face till the guy scanned the tin, took my cash (no freebie) and put my receipt in the bag. By this time I was well in control of the situation and speedily hopped on to the train. I spent most of the 25 min train journey back home changing tissues and avoiding eye contact with co-travellers whose curious gazes suggested pity at the imagined outcome of an alcohol-fuelled accident or a domestic fight. Finally back at my flat, with the help of frozen peas and turmeric powder (natural wound healer) I was able to stop all the bleeding in an hour. It was well past midnight when I decided to warm the soup and slowly slurp it via the left side of my mouth- a task that is even trickier than it sounds.
The supermarkets could learn several things from this incident. Much as I hate to mention it- Health and Safety springs to mind, but ice packs would have been handy too, or every store could compulsorily stock frozen peas! More importantly I have a whole lot of learning points for myself and others in a similar position:
a) If not in a hurry, look around for a taller, cute-looking guy/ girl in the supermarket, request help in obtaining the out-of-reach high object and use it an excuse to strike up a conversation.
b) If 'injured' in store, appear distressed, try not to faint and get a shop assistant to carry and pack all your shopping on priority (Note: You may want to punch the credit card PIN number in yourself)
c) If left with a swollen lip on a train, pretend to speak loudly on the phone and mention how you punched your partner because he got you the wrong coloured dress AGAIN.
d) Start a petition requesting supermarkets to place their tins at 5 feet 10 inches which seems just about the right height at which the average Londoner can grab them in a hurry without risking one's life and limb...... I mean life and lips.
_____________________________________________________
Alas, this post is not about a super-soup that will help us pygmies gain height but rather about the woes of one who lost her 'reach'.
The incident occurred some time ago on a Saturday evening. I was returning home from a social event and decided I was a little hungry. Being on an eat-healthy drive I headed to the M and S at Waterloo in search of a light bite. I immediately made a beeline for the tinned soup section and scanned the shelves for the vegetarian options. There were two: cream of tomato and mixed vegetable, both on the topmost shelf.
There are some moments in adult life when you are perfectly aware of the consequences of potentially unwise actions. This was one of them. I looked up at the stacked tins and judged that if I stretched up a few inches I could just about reach and grab the base of the Cream of Tomato tin. In my mind I worked out a contingency 'catch position' in case it slipped. I then proceeded to reach for it.
However what I did not calculate was that the tin below it could also move if I didn't lift the top one adeptly. Indeed that bottom tin, taking advantage of my oversight did not only move, but rather smugly rolled down and bounced off the side of the shelf with a clank before hitting the floor. As my attention was momentarily taken by the rolling tin, I forgot what my 'target tin' was doing and looked up just in time to see it falling purposefully towards my face. I would be lying if I said my life flashed in front of me but it would be fair to say that I did not feel too calm.
Luckily my brain was talking to my neck while I was trying not to panic, and it (the neck not the brain) turned backwards just in time for the side of the 'target tin' to hit my lip and teeth before plonking to the ground. Surprisingly I felt no immediate pain except the pain of stupidity. An M&S-jacketed person dashed towards me and enquired if I was okay. I picked up the can from the floor, stared at it numbly and said "It fell on me as I tried to lift it". He apologised profusely, offered help and stared at my lip. By this time I could taste blood in my mouth.
Me: I think I hurt my lip. I can feel it swelling.
Shop Assistant: Yes it looks swollen but really its not that bad
Me: Are you sure? Can you see blood?
Shop Assistant: No, really it doesn't look that bad. Is it hurting?
Me (Now with a crumpled tissue out of my pocket): Its bleeding, I can taste it!
Shop Assistant (Handing me some M&S napkins): Do you need any first aid/ plaster?
Me (still clutching the target tin and feeling dazed and silly): Okay
Shop Assistant: Its just a little swollen but not looking bad, really.
At which point I switched on my I-phone camera, pointed it to myself and tried to check how bad it looked. Reassuringly it looked like someone had punched me on the lip but otherwise not too bad. All teeth appeared intact! A few minuted later, as a guy came out of the back office I declined the plaster (I mean who puts a plaster on a lip??) The assistant couldn't find any ice so I continued dabbing the tissue to stop the bleeding, only realising much later that it was the inside of the lip that was worse hit than the outside. The shop assistant saw that I was still clutching the soup tin (I wasn't about to let it go after ALL THAT EFFORT) so he offered to take me to the front of the queue.
The only thing was that I had my back to people and they couldn't see the reason for the special treatment so I had to turn sideways and grimace and contort my face till the guy scanned the tin, took my cash (no freebie) and put my receipt in the bag. By this time I was well in control of the situation and speedily hopped on to the train. I spent most of the 25 min train journey back home changing tissues and avoiding eye contact with co-travellers whose curious gazes suggested pity at the imagined outcome of an alcohol-fuelled accident or a domestic fight. Finally back at my flat, with the help of frozen peas and turmeric powder (natural wound healer) I was able to stop all the bleeding in an hour. It was well past midnight when I decided to warm the soup and slowly slurp it via the left side of my mouth- a task that is even trickier than it sounds.
The supermarkets could learn several things from this incident. Much as I hate to mention it- Health and Safety springs to mind, but ice packs would have been handy too, or every store could compulsorily stock frozen peas! More importantly I have a whole lot of learning points for myself and others in a similar position:
a) If not in a hurry, look around for a taller, cute-looking guy/ girl in the supermarket, request help in obtaining the out-of-reach high object and use it an excuse to strike up a conversation.
b) If 'injured' in store, appear distressed, try not to faint and get a shop assistant to carry and pack all your shopping on priority (Note: You may want to punch the credit card PIN number in yourself)
c) If left with a swollen lip on a train, pretend to speak loudly on the phone and mention how you punched your partner because he got you the wrong coloured dress AGAIN.
d) Start a petition requesting supermarkets to place their tins at 5 feet 10 inches which seems just about the right height at which the average Londoner can grab them in a hurry without risking one's life and limb...... I mean life and lips.
_____________________________________________________
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