Saturday 26 September 2009

I love Ocado!

I am a total convert to the joys of Ocado. I love the fact someone brings shopping to the door. I know I have to do the virtual shopping and have to pay for it, but there is something wonderful about the nice people in the jazzy vans bringing goodies. There is, for me, only one drawback trying work out the size of something by its weight. I've been caught out a couple of times by this, usually when I wasn't being too observant and trying to finish shopping while I still had my time slot reserved. One week I managed to buy a very small loaf of bread, thinking I was buying an average sized loaf. While last week I managed to buy some minute small lamb steaks. Think I understand now a little about war time rationing!

I know I'm a foodie, I should be going to the farmers market. And I do, sometimes. The trouble is I usually have R in tow. Now for a four year old I think she is pretty good with quite a lot of food, hey she even has olives on her pizza. However, there is something about a farmers market that brings out the phillistine in her. I have this vision of us ambling round the farmers market as she tries various things, nodding her approval, recognising the seasonal produce, asking about the providence of the meat. Ok maybe not, she doesn't even really understand that chicken (meat) and chicken (farmyard friend) are the same thing nevermind 'did it have a happy life?!' but you get the picture. Now she is a child who loves eating fruit (yes I do like to be smug about this to other mothers) so where better to take her than a farmers market full of lovely free fruit for her to try. She picked up a lovely blackberry last time we went, popped it in her mouth and then started trying to turn her mouth inside out while making retching noises. She ended up spitting it into my hand and then complaining it was 'really yukky'. All in earshot of the stall holder. Then she started saying that the cheese smelt 'disgusting'. But she can't just say it once, she has to say it over and over again, at the top of her voice (and the top of a four years olds voice is a very loud place to be). Oh well, maybe she will grow into it, or maybe I'll have more luck with daughter number two.

So, due to the lack of market-etiquette of my four year old and the fact that if I head to the shops I have a newborn who isn't keen on the idea of browsing, my trusty laptop is taking the strain and the nice men from Ocado are bringing me lots of lovely things - even if they are half the size I thought they were!