Grocery shopping. Bores-malors. Going to get stuff that sits in fridges and cupboards is double dull. Other shoppers are always waddling around, with their broken trolleys and big bodies. They’re always getting in the way. Always looking at the bacon when I want to look at the bacon. And when I’m at the checkout, they glance at what I’ve bought. Judging me. Sneering at my double pack of mille feuille. There’s nothing wrong with a bro who wants to eat two at a time. They’re only small. I eat them with a fork and everything… Just bum off.

Choosing a rig-out for such an endeavour requires forethought and finesse. You’ve got to be able to move quickly, agility is key. Your clothes have to work as hard as you. They’ve got to be comfortable, as you edge between a pair of downy-faced women, to claw at the Ginsters Steak and Onion Lattices.

Let me drop my Morrison’s look on you. I busted some green cargos and some Oli Spencer Supergas, which I’ve worn on this blog before. An Albam blazer, is an essential – big roomy pockets for wallet, keys, phone, fags… I also chose to rock a Brooklyn We Go Hard sweat that I picked up in Manchester last season. BWGH do some pretty strong tops and while I’m not usually one for graphic deets, I do like the fact that this is embroidered and not just a cheap print.

Finally, I tossed on my largest Drifter rucksack. I snaffled this for a measly 15 quid in a Garbstore sample sale. It’s pale blue nylon with suede trim and huge.

Interestingly enough, it’s sufficiently capacious to transport bagels, a granary loaf, some Encona spicy sauce, a pot of Ben and Jerry’s, a four pack of Princes tuna, a family bag of salt and vinegar Tyrrells and a large block of Cathedral City.

Well, you know, we’ve all got stories.