Chicken impossible

This morning I braved rain, hail and wind to deliver some groceries to Mr R.

Mr R had a very specific shopping list consisting of just 3 items (all with footnotes and specific prices - thanks Mr R!)

However, despite the meticulous shopping list, I did somehow end up feeling like a far less graceful Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.

First of all, I set off the alarm in Sainsburys as my chicken was so bouji it was security tagged. Let me just say, getting bag searched is not fun in the age of Corona and queuing for entrances and exits. When the security guy finally found my chicken-y culprit he said - "Aaah, you got the posh chicken". Sorry Mr Security but GoodGym runners don't do anything by halves!

The Mission Impossible vibes continued after I arrived at Mr R's place and he kept radioing down to me via the intercom to ask me covert questions about my completed mission - que one very giggly Becs. Mr R was lovely and after a brief swap of contraband I was off on my soggy way home.

Mission accomplished. (I had to, sorry)