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One of the things I really looked forward to in my retirement was the weekly shopping expedition. I imagined pushing the trolley slowly, around the supermarket and picking out odd items that took my fancy. But, alas, my innocent dreams were rudely shattered.

First it is necessary to secure a shopping trolley. Carefully designed not only to hold all shapes and sizes of purchases but also all ages and types of small children, a single trolley is hard to get out of the line of trolleys where it is parked. Each trolley defies separation from its fellows without sharp jerks or the assistance of two strong men.

The next lesson is that women never follow a logical route when shopping. Your wife has disappeared. After ten minutes of searching, when you eventually find her in a far comer, she enquires rather tersely: “Where have you been all this time, dear?”

Supermarket managers are sent on courses to learn how to tempt the customers and persuade them to buy goods they do not really need, at prices they are not able to afford. As a newcomer, I was a sucker for their clever techniques and took many goods off the shelves. But my innocence was soon curbed by my wife. “Put it back, dear.” “You’ve tried that before and didn’t like it”. “No, it’s too expensive.” I soon learnt to be a wheeler of trolleys and not a dealer in goods.

But the most frightening hazard is supermarket trolleys driven by the so-called weaker sex. These women adhere to no code and give no quarter, and constant evasive action is necessary to avoid skinned knuckles, crushed toes or bruised shins. Their usual parking methods are either sideways across the aisles, or side by side with a friend to exchange gossip, and a polite “Excuse me” from traffic usually meets with no response.