The rain lashed down onto the car park floor with the force of nails, struck by a hammer. The clouds dominated the afternoon sky engulfing the sunlight into its grey abyss. Row, upon row, upon row, of cars filled the car park all leading me towards the supermarket entrance. Above the entrance stood the five letters of TESCO, glowing with blue defiance against the gloomy weather. Outside was a dwindling supply of shopping trolleys, soon to be used by the next wave of rush hour customers. The huge automatic entrance door parted as I walked towards it, eager to be inside. Walking across the smooth marble floor I noticed the barely audible, relaxing tune that flowed through the speakers, wrapping everybody in its blanket of calm. The big green and yellow ‘frozen food’ sign was now overhead as I weaved through the legs of a crowd of people. My red T-shirt wasn’t enough to keep me warm from the chilling bite of the giant freezers. Their scent is always near impossible to describe, but the first thing to assault the nose when you are by them is the sheer cold. Then I reached a screaming child. A single mother juggled between a sleeping baby in a pram, scribbling onto her shopping list and shushing a screaming toddler, clinging to the side of the trolley like his life depended on it. The bags under the mother’s eyes showed she’d had many sleepless nights. I continued on. The screaming stopped. Taking a glance back I saw the toddler now grinning in silence, sucking on the dummy his mother had just given him. I was confronted with the sight of flickering florescent lights, which obviously was supposed to be changed. The rushing and frantic families who were trying to get ingredients for their late dinner were destroying the super market. A cool, air-conditioned breeze brushed across my face. The supermarket was packed with people and the sound of chatting and the