On the way home from work yesterday, I called into the supermarket in the small town near by to get some milk, bread and fruit.
Our little supermarket has 3 short aisles, but you can get most things there, and the prices are reasonable. I purchased 12 litres of milk, enough bananas and apples for a week, and a couple of loaves of bread. You can be guaranteed to run into 3 or 4 people who you know, or (in my case anyway) know who I am.
As I was paying, I was chatting to the sales assistant who, despite me not having ever spoken to her before, knew where I taught, and on which days. She knew too that I buy milk in bulk. There is not much privacy in small town living!
What I do love about small town living is that when I need to drag my 12 litres of milk and umpteen kilograms of fruit out to the car, they ding a little bell, and a teen-aged boy appears, picks up my bags, and carries them out the door to the car (parked directly out the front), and pops them in the boot for me! With a chirpy greeting too!
It’s like living in the 1950’s – and I love it!