I hate grocery shopping before Christmas. I go in with the mindset that there will be nothing that I want on the shelves, the queues will be a mile long, everyone will be in a bad mood and the shop will look like it’s been ramraided. That way if I get out in one piece I feel pretty damn pleased about the whole endeavour.

Last year I hoisted myself from my pit to be at Sainsburys for 6 am on Christmas Eve. It was fantastic. The shop was quiet, and everyone in there had the same, “Yeah, we’re off our heads being in the shop at this time, but what can you do” expression. People were talking to each other, telling each other to have a good Christmas, sharing tips on where the hard-to-source items where and generally being pleasant. Starbucks were giving out samples of coffee which was the best thing EVAH. I was in and out the shop in half an hour and back in my bed by 7.30. Splendid.

Compare that lovely experience to the previous year’s one. I had lost all reason and decided to go to Asda (the UK’s Walmart) at 3.00pm on Christmas Eve. I don’t know what I was thinking. We were off to the in-law’s for Christmas Dinner and my job was to provide pudding. I had already made about a tonne of cheesecake but I had it in mind that I would like Pavlova. So, off I trotted to the frozen food section to find a Pavlova.

Now, I’ve seen pictures of American supermarkets’ frozen food sections. Aisle after aisle of sensible gleaming upright freezers. Here, they look like this

A chest freezer with an upright freezer above it. There was one Pavlova left. It was at the very back of the very top shelf in the upright freezer. I stood on the bar around the chest freezer – still couldn’t reach it. I hoiked myself up onto the edge of the chest freezer and balancing verrrry carefully reached up for the Pavlova and…

…Overbalanced horrifically falling head first into the chest freezer below. The almost empty chest freezer. My wee legs were sticking straight up and waving about like flags as I tried to – I don’t know really. Signal for help? Look even more ridiculous on the in-store CCTV than a woman falling into a chest freezer could look? My arms were pinned underneath me so I was struggling to push myself out.

Next think I knew I was being pulled unceremoniously out of the freezer by my coat collar. I looked into the eyes of my rescuer. It was a man. An absolutely gorgeous, muscle-bound hunk of a man. The sort of man who, if this was a romcom feelgood movie and I was 10 years younger, single, and looked like Carey Mulligan, I would have a laugh and a joke with and we would end up spending Christmas together. Instead I was looking bedraggled and icy with bits of frozen carrot embedded in my hair.

There my shame should have ended. Oh no. I came for my Pavlova and was damn well going to get it. “Excuse me pal.” (Pal. Cringe) “Could you pass me that Pavlova please? I fell in trying to… yeah” I tailed off as he rolled his eyes and effortlessly passed me the Pavlova. “Merry Christmas!” I yelped as he walked away shaking his head.

(Bang bang bang. That’s me banging my head off the table as I recount this story.) I walked away from the freezer with as much dignity as I could muster (not a freakin’ lot to be honest) then had to slide back when I realised that I had left my trolley abandoned.

I would love to be able to say that the Pavlova was well-received and worth the embarrassment. Was it hell. It was all bashed and mashed and ended up being turned into Eton Mess. It definitely wasn’t worth the humiliation.

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Holiday Box

Edwyn Collins. Love. Ignore the crappy miming (TOTP was all miming) and the awfully literal dancers and the utter pish captions.

(Bollox. I can’t find a video that’ll play here. YouTube Orange Juice, Rip It Up. You won’t regret it)