Yesterday I managed something that has felt like climbing a mountain lately: I went to the shop, and it was B&M. For anyone who hasn’t been in a while, B&M really is an adventure these days.
I booked a strict one-hour outing with my carer to hit B&M, hoping to walk about a bit, get some fresh air, and browse for a few early stocking fillers. Stepping outside into the cold wind actually felt brilliant. That crisp, sharp air wakes you right up after days spent indoors with the blinds drawn.
The shop itself, though, was packed. Between the usual mid-week crowds and people visibly stocking up after the government’s three-day emergency preparedness warnings (a stash I still desperately need to put together myself), the sensory noise ramped up fast. Halfway through, I hit a wall and started freaking out a bit. Fortunately, my carer stepped straight in and helped ground me. Then, she steered us over to a much quieter aisle until my head settled. No seizure triggers, no total meltdown—just a pause, a reset, and back to it. Honestly, shopping at B&M in a rush can be overwhelming for anyone.
Once the dust settled, I took a look around and got hit with a different kind of shock: the prices. I went down the toy aisle expecting to grab a few blind bags for Ben and Rebecca at around £2.99 each. £6.99. For a tiny mystery bag. Absolute daylight robbery. I pivoted immediately—instead of throwing money away on overpriced plastic, I’m going to print out little “magic tickets” with a custom code for them to text me so I can transfer them actual cash. Much better value, and way more fun to open.
Conclusion
The trip wasn’t a bust, though. I picked up some sweets for the kids, found a lovely cherry-scented candle for myself, and—to my genuine delight—discovered they actually had cheese in stock. These are the sorts of small victories that make a B&M trip worthwhile.
The only real tragedy of the day happened when I got home. Normal milk had been completely sold out, so I grabbed a carton of oat milk as a backup. Big mistake. I made myself a proper brew, took one sip, and nearly gagged. Maybe it’s just me, maybe my taste buds are fiercely traditional, but oat milk turns a decent cup of tea into something genuinely nasty. Cow’s milk is—and always has been—the only acceptable mixture for a brew.
By the time I got back, ate, and finally crashed out under a blanket, I was completely wiped. Still, I got out, survived a busy shop, secured the cheese, and came home with my dignity intact. Even if my tea was ruined. Next time, I’ll plan a list before heading to B&M so I’m not caught off guard by crowds or price jumps.
So, where to next week?