I like fish

So I'm in Tesco and this guy who sort of looks like a guy I went to school with is on the fresh fish counter.

What do I do?

Where once we were equals now here I am filling my trolley with fresh olives and parma ham, and he goes home smelling of haddock.

Should I roll on over there and just pretend like I don't recognise him?

Fifth time around, and this could be a little awkward.

I could just roll on by, but I really want some Swordfish loin, and God, I've not had any dressed crab for two days.

Three circuits of the store later I come up with my genius plan - he's a jobbing actor. He's making his way to the top by taking any old crappy job in between acting gigs. This isn't a dead end, it's a mere stepping stone to a brighter life.

Full of gay abandon I march back to the fish counter, only Possibly Stuart is gone. There's some old lady serving there now, and that's okay - she's on the wind down path of her career, pulling a few shifts to buy Christmas presents for the grand kids.

Making a mental note to not say this kind of thing out loud I pick my fish up from the floor and head for the checkout.

It's a lovely sunny day. Birds are singing, and I have seared yellow fin tuna for tea.

In the car park Could Be Colin is collecting the trolleys.