Loading tin after tin of sugary, pre-cut fruit into my trolley, I had cleared the shelves in no time at all.
From pineapple and peaches, I didn’t care what I was buying – it was cheap and would fill a hole.
That’s all that mattered.
‘Corhh, are you having a party?’ a random stranger pointed, as me and my daughter Rosie, now 13, headed to the checkout.
With over 30 tins in the trolley, we did gather plenty of strange looks.
‘Yes, we are!’ I muttered, quickly putting my head down.
I didn’t have the heart to tell the truth – I didn’t even really like admitting it to myself.
The fact was, we weren’t stocking up for any guests.
The masses of tinned fruit were all for me instead – Rosie didn’t touch the stuff.
I had to make sure I had at least nine tins to get me through the day – on top of
