Am I missing something? Is there a reason for such mad behaviour?

Do we possess some primeval spirit that demands such action? If so, my creation certainly missed out on that gene.

And boy, am I glad. I'm talking about the absurd rush to the supermarkets when a Bank Holiday's coming up - as I witnessed once again last weekend.

OK, at one time this sort of action was probably necessary. I'm talking about the era of the weekly bread van, Wednesday half-day closing, and fish 'n' chips for a shilling.

But now? For goodness sake, you people, you are daft.

Just think. Supermarkets are big business. They love you going into their stores. They only close when they have to - and that no longer means Bank Holiday Mondays.

Oh, no. They know how your mentality works. You see, you think you're going in for that pint of milk and newspaper, but out you come with a trolley-full of offers - because that's what your genes tell you to do.

There they go, searching until they've spotted something: "Ooh, look. There's one to take advantage of. Buy two packs of nut roasted sausages, get the third free."

Never mind that you've got a nut allergy, hate the sausage skin getting stuck in your teeth, and will keep three packs of nut roasted sausages in your freezer for the Millennium - I mean the one in the year 3000. You see, that's what I'm talking about.

Resistance - you don't have it. That's why you go rushing in on a Saturday, queuing so far back into the store you could serve on the deli counter while you're waiting.

Then you nip back on Sunday in case your great aunt, or son's girlfriend's best friend happens to pop by for tea, and you're left embarrassed at the table because there isn't a separate extra-large black forest gateaux for each person. T

hen in you trot on the Bank Holiday Monday because.... because... they're OPEN. Got it? They certainly will have. I don't know.

How I long for the day's when Mum's friend's uncle owned the corner shop on our street - and that was because he'd inherited it from his great aunt, who'd run the shop and Post Office after her father had died. Still with me?

Anyway, you got your bread fresh in a brown paper bag; your tea hadn't reached the perforated bag stage; and you'd never pop there for your weekly milk because Mr Robbins always delivered and always had extra when you needed it.

So, there. Bank Holiday mayhem for shoppers - of course these mid-year dates are all a trial run for the real biggy... Christmas (please say it quietly).

That's when I do really wonder about you all. And who took to the roads last weekend for the family day out - most of which was probably spent in the car, if you ignored my advice and attempted the A64 to Scarborough. Nice place, horrendous journey.

Perhaps I could begin a campaign CESAER - the 'campaign for empty supermarkets and empty roads'. Well, the word caught on with a salad.

0406/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.