Page 32 of Sassy & Sixty

Rosie raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're planning to eat your laptop, yes, we have to. Come on, it'll be fun. We'll make an outing of it."

As Catherine finished writing and put away her computer, the doorbell rang. Emma's voice carried through the letterbox, "Oi, you lot! We've come to rescue you from suburban boredom!"

Rosie opened the door to find Emma, Lisa, Julie, and Trisha on her doorstep, all looking far too excited for a Tuesday afternoon.

"Perfect timing," Rosie said, ushering them in. "We were just about to go grocery shopping. Want to join us?"

Emma's face fell. "Grocery shopping? Boring! I was thinking more along the lines of sky diving or perhaps a nice protest march."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Emma. Grocery shopping can be fun with the right company. Besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I heard the new Waitrose has a wine tasting section."

Seven pairs of eyes lit up simultaneously.

"Well," Trisha said, a slow smile spreading across her face, "we wouldn't want to miss out on expanding our palates, would we?"

And so, twenty minutes later, the Sensational Sixties Squad found themselves entering the sliding doors of Waitrose, armed with shopping lists and an joy usually reserved for taking a bra off at the end of the day.

"Right," Rosie said, trying to instil some order, "let's start with the essentials. Fruits, vegetables, bread…"

"Wine tasting!" Emma interrupted, already making a beeline for the back of the store.

"Emma!" Rosie called after her, but it was too late. The others had caught the scent of adventure (and alcohol) and were following in Emma's wake like a line of ducklings.

Rosie sighed, grabbed a shopping trolley, and followed.

By the time she caught up, Emma was already chatting up the young man running the wine tasting booth.

"Now, darling," Emma was saying, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that was more alarming than alluring, "let’s see what you’ve got, shall we?"

The poor lad, who looked barely out of his teens, gulped nervously. "I, um, I suppose so. We do have a lovely Chardonnay that's just been opened..."

As he poured generous 'samples' into their tasting glasses, Rosie felt a moment of misgiving. "Perhaps we should finish the shopping first," she suggested weakly.

But her protest was drowned out by the clink of glasses and Emma's enthusiastic, "Cheers, ladies! Here's to grocery shopping with style!"

One sample turned into two, then three. Thank goodness the shop was close enough to Rosie’s house that they had been able to walk there. The young man in charge of the wine tasting booth, initially flustered, soon found himself enjoying the attention of seven vivacious women who laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in his explanation of wine regions.

"You know," Maria said, her cheeks flushed pink from more than just the previous evening’s makeover, "David never let me drink wine. He said it made me silly."

"Silly is good," Julie declared, raising her glass in a toast. "Here's to being silly, and to hell with men who don't appreciate it!"

They all cheered, drawing curious glances from nearby shoppers.

Rosie, who had been nursing her first glass, realized with a start that they had been at the shop for nearly half an hour and hadn't bought a single grocery item.

"Come on, ladies," she said, trying to herd them towards the produce section. "Let's at least pretend we came here to actually shop."

Giggling like schoolgirls, they followed Rosie, weaving slightly as they navigated the aisles. Catherine insisted on stopping at every free sample stand they passed, accumulating an impressive collection of tiny cups and toothpicks in her handbag.

"Ooh, look!" Emma exclaimed, holding up a pineapple. "Doesn't this remind you of Richard's hair when he turned up at the house last night?"

The image of Catherine's usually impeccably groomed husband with pineapple-shaped bed head sent them into fits of laughter.

As they moved through the store, their volume seemed to increase in direct proportion to the amount of wine they had consumed. Rosie found herself shushing them repeatedly, to little effect.

"So, Rosie," Emma said loudly as they perused the cereal aisle, "have you decided between Derek and Mike yet? Because personally, I think you should go for Mike. He's got that silver fox thing going on."

Rosie felt her face flame as several heads turned in their direction. "Emma!" she said with a smile. "Could we perhaps not discuss my love life in the middle of Waitrose?"

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