We were ahead of the pack as far as the low cost German supermarket Lidl goes. Ms T and I were shopping there long before the credit crunch propelled the distressed bankers of the Telegraph set to the cheerful if utilitarian blue and yellow sign of no frills shopping. I don't know why anyone bothers with Sainsburys. Lidl has fifty seven types of super sausage and you can do a weekly shop for the two of you for 50 quid.
For me the best bit of the supermarket, be it the Streatham or Brixton branch is the middle aisle, which is like a sort of 'bring and buy stall meet the forces of Globalisation' affair. Drill sets. Scuba Diving equipment. Digital temperature gauges. MP3 players of indeterminate manufacture. It's all there, sometimes, in the middle aisle of Lidl.
The other day I drove there; you've got to really, the shopping weighs a ton once Ms T has rifled the cheese fridge; and decided to play Carla Bruni's new album on the CD. I'll admit to being somewhat captured by Ms Bruni. She is a bright spot of light in the dark shenanigans of European politics. Sadly, the album is pants. It's a kind of melodic breathing which was in vogue sometime around 1971, although in fairness it is done in three languages. She rattles through a couple of standards, a song which sound suspiciously like Sir Paul Macca's 'For No-One' and some other dittys which are in French and therefore probably rude. I can't in all honesty recommend it, and can't help noting it charted this week at No 53.
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