I don't usually go shopping late on Friday afternoon but it's been a disjointed week and that's how it worked out. There are several times in a week I try to avoid - Saturday afternoon is another and opening time on Sunday is also bad.

First thing on a Sunday is more like the opening of a chariot race than a supermarket at our local Sainsburys. I've never known why. It isn't like they sell anything rare. Or as if you are going to starve if you don't shop just then, There are plenty of shops around Nottingham that stay open late for people who are too stupid to shop in the six and a half days the normal supermarket opens. Perhaps, as a bit of social engineering, we should close the shops for a week and cleanse the gene pool of everyone who is too stupid to shop a week in advance. Or footballers as they are better known.

Saturday afternoon, you can understand that. They've had a whole day with each other, the kids are playing up and they have just been to B&Q for tiles and grout so he can see his Sunday is spoken for...

People are bound to be grumpy, and that is why shopping on Saturday afternoon has come to closely resemble the lineouts of the days of my youth. Though it would make it more interesting if shops built some 10 foot shelves and introduced lifting.

Finally, back to the point. Why is shopping on Friday afternoon so fraught? It should have a holiday atmosphere as people do their last jobs before the weekend. Instead, grim-faced women shout at children and try to ram you into the displays. They can't all be in a hurry to get off to their place in the country for the weekend (this is Tesco I'm talking, not Waitrose) so what's the problem?

There was an excuse today when you look at the price of flowers, but this happens every Friday regardless of whether we are being ripped off by the cost of red flowers or not. Single red rose - £6, £35 for a bunch of red roses and £15 for a bouquet with some red flowers in it, just going to show that not all criminals appear on Crimewatch. I paid £3.99 for a bunch of pink roses, proving that not all Scrooges appear in Dickens. £35! Bah, humbug!