Maybe I should have licked it off the floor

It’s getting worse. My ongoing battle with age that is. I drove back from Dublin the other day and I suppose tiredness is taking its toll more than it used to. I went into a local large supermarket and headed fairly directly to the wine. I might add my son was in tow. I hadn’t bothered with a basket and had some meat and dog food in my hands. As I went to take one bottle of wine, I felt the one next to it move as well and while I was endeavouring to save that one bottle, my legs buckled and my knee made contact with the bottom shelf and with that bottles started to cascade around me. With each one that fell I shouted ‘shit’. Now all the queues of people were looking and grinning. My son who had heard my profanities was hiding behind a stack of beer. Snorting, laughing. In hindsight I should have dropped the items in my hand and kept my cool and it might have stopped at one. Or two even. Now they were crashing around me and I was standing in a Rubicon of wine. One guy passed and said in his best Cork accent “I seen nuttin”. When they stopped falling I asked the nearest customer if I would have to pay for them. She ran with a terrified look on her face and refrained from either offering help or proffering advice as to whether I should run or not. Luckily, a very nice shop assistant arrived and asked me if I wanted to lick it up or not. I obviously looked like a deranged dipso. My son, who had now emerged from behind the beer, and the store assistant fell around the place laughing at my discomfort. Joined forces against the bothersome old bat. As I get older so many ridiculous things are happening to me. Making an exhibition of myself is a regular occurrence and I feel people are starting to recognise me as the weirdo who was here last week. I may have to move city.