I have been trying to grow a beard for about two months. This would imply that I am actively involved in the pursuit of beard growing from the root of the verb ‘to try.’ I am not actually doing anything. The beard is growing itself. Most of this happens when I am asleep, because the following morning there has been some developments. My face is longer and heavier… and itchier!

I found a friggin’ spider in my beard today. This means that insects are laying eggs in my face – which also means that my face looks like a good place to lay eggs if you’re an insect. Because this doesn’t fit with my self-image I have shaved off the last two months’ worth of liberated follicles along with the nesting site for the next generation of daddy long legs for my bath plughole. I found this little boy’s face hiding underneath the beard, blinking bashfully in the mirror.

DT

As the advice goes, how do you actually go about meeting someone at a supermarket? Which aisle is more amenable to love? There is something very romantic about dairy (cow’s tits, milk maids, etc) so I would personally opt for midway down the cheese and margarine aisle. Single people have cats, so look out for the cat food in their trolley.

 Have you noticed the basic flaw in this theory – people do not speak to each other in a supermarket, so unless you’re stacking shelves and someone asks you where the gluten free pasta is, starting a conversation could be tricky. You’ll need a better icebreaker than ‘can I help you carry your cheese,’ or “haven’t I seen you by the McVitie’s biscuits before?”

Real supermarket love is offering your ticket at the deli counter or making eye contact in the dried fruit section. In a world of consumables and bright lights eye contact is king. Dress for the occasion. Walking past the bleach dressed in a backless ball gown might be overstretching the limits of subtlety, and will make you shiver uncontrollably by the frozen peas.