I'm back from a shopping-for-the-essentials-in-Boots trip. I love the self-medication policy in England. Really, who needs a doctor when you can do your own pick-n-mix at your local supermarket? But still, quite a mission on a sunday when all families go shopping together...

As usual, I forgot to get a basket at the door, hence ended up running the aisles (I wasn't the only one running; so was my nose...), with, propped up in a debatable balance between my chin and elbows, a pile of various boxes, including vitamines of every sort, a "Cold&Flu Max relief", a jumbo box of tissues, three boxes of hair colorant (there was a 3 for 2 deal), two packs of Strepsils, a lip cream, and, well hidden somewhere in the middle, a box of Durex condoms.

With a certain lack of grace, I was somehow still managing all right so far.
That is, until the fateful hundredth sneeze of the day, which sent my harvest flying in every direction.

A sweet couple helped me picking up everything, with their two children staring at me like I was the incredible hulk with a running nose. Without a doubt a close approximation. Bless them. Especially when, as they left me with a brand new rebuilt pile of boxes, I overheard their seven-year-old son asking: "Mum? What is fetherlite?"