Sunday, 16th October, 2005
Every Sunday morning, the elderly woman who works at the local newsagent's moans about the weight of my newspaper as she hauls it across the counter to zap with her barcode reader. I'm not exaggerating, she moans about it every single week. She doesn't moan in a friendly, aren't-these-big-newspapers-a-real-nuisance kind of way; she moans as if to admonish me for not choosing a lighter paper.
I think she's in the wrong job.