Asda, Leyton Mills, East London

Asda are meant to be the Mother and Baby awrd winners, for whatever that is worth. A kickback and a sponsorship, I should think. Anyway, I usually avoid supermarket shopping because I hate them, all of them, without exception. I hate the feeling of being herded round aisles and sold things at, and the fact that they rip you off left right and centre whilst paying the farmer about half a penny. I hate uniform looking fruit and weird pesticide tomatos that never go off. However, since i also hate the yoghurt knitting spend a fiver on a dirty carrot brigade, i usually tread the line of the local shop and grocer. Smetimes though, you've just got to, and since my maternity pay has gone, I walked the walked to Asda/ Walmart and looked for a lightweight sleeping bag for Mr Woad, my baby, whose bulk has increased to such an amount that he is bursting out of the old ones. They didn't have any. Nobody knew if they would have any. Or ever had them. Or if any other shop might do, or if the friend who told me about them was having a post-partum hallucination or not. Not a good start then.

Whilst there, i thought i might have a look around at the baby stuff. It's cheap, it's cotton, it all looks ok, but I really couldn't be doing with the queues and Woad was starting to fret and grab at my boobs in that delightful way I hope he grows out of. So I looked for the mum's room. Eventually, I was pointed in the direction of it, on the main concourse, and ok-ish. Of course, i'd rather sit in the coffee shop, but whenever there is a mum's room it's almost as if you HAVE to use it, and when there are burka-ed up ladies in the coffee shop etc I expect i'd have little choice, so in i went, although it always feels like a loo.

In fact, it WAS a loo, except it had a changing table with empty wipe dispenser, acceptably clean but not pleasant, being all strip lighting and glaring mirror. One of the obviusly-loo-at-one-point cubicles now contained an uncomfy plastic chair. So i sat in and did it, and really felt like I was in a loo, and the whole experience was functional not comfy. Woad took exception to the strip light overhead whilst changing, and midway through a staff member came in and started fussing with her hair, leaving bits of it behind (she was African and wearing a hairpiece, they seem to shed a lot, rather like me at the moment). It wasn't a nice time and although the facility was there, the heart wasn't. It was obviously dumped in the building at the last minute and with little thought. Next time, if there ever is one, shall sit in the cafe and brave the glares of the burka'ed workforce.

In contrast, when I got caught short as it were in the local grocers, they practically wrenched him out of my hands, showed me through to the back of the shop, gave me some mint tea, and left me alone. Then fussed him, gave me free bananas, and sent me on my way. That is why Asda are arses and local shops rock.

(I would like to point out that the ref to burkas isn't meant to be offensive, just that I always feel awkward exposing a bit of myself next to a woman whose entire body is obviously totally covered up because she or her husband disapproves of exposing of flesh. Although I know it's a democracy and I've got a right to do it if I want to, soon, i hope)