Category Archives: Walmart

Emma Does ASDA Pulse Of The Nation – quirky veg is sexy! pic.twitter.com/vmoY6YrfqV

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Meet my buddy spuddy

It has just been Oscar season. The host opens the envelope and the winner is announced. Every year there is the Man-Booker literary prize shortlist. All the scribes are interviewed on posh BBC radio and eventually the winner is crowned. Huge cheques are awarded. Limos and red carpets enter our subliminal souls. Thousands cheer while rivals grind their teeth in bitter angst.

Until a couple of days ago I’d always just missed out on this stuff. Then it happened. Suddenly I was a selected one! ASDA (Walmart) chose me to be on their green “Pulse Of The Nation” forum. I became part of the great discussion on green behaviour and politics. Decades of playing trolley dodgems at ASDA had led up to this moment but I was soon to realize that my style of being green was a pathetic pastel imitation of the real thing. There are some fantastic folk out there.

Bottoms Up

There are people who buy and sell worms on e-bay. Then you nurture the little creatures on waste in a wormery. Then you separate the droppings from the worm urine and feed it to your veg’. There are people shredding up all the family scrap paper for chicken bedding.  I thought I was being good by putting my old clothes in the rag bin. Some folk cut them up and use them a dish cloths. Of course, I’m also a bit of a carnivore and I know that’s not too green.

Once you start hording you just can’t stop


Once I realized that I was more green dwarf than giant I settled down to discuss what happens to pigs’ heads and trotters these days. I did get a bit passionate about misshapen veg. I revealed my tower of old tubs I can’t throw away because they contain other junk I can’t throw away. I also confessed to loving ASDA 3 for £10 deals. Well, you just never know when you’re going to need an extra pack of bacon.

So thank you ASDA for having me and thanks to all the folk who replied to my posts. I came across a fabulous librarian who loves crows and ferrets. People like us have to stick together. I’ve put up a few of the nutty photos I added to my inane comments.

Emma thinx: Against all the odds Time and Destiny chose YOU.





A Rose By Any Other Thorn – #Valentine’s Day Snags pic.twitter.com/plGWt0rbd0

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It is Friday the thirteenth. Although my life is an obstacle course of superstition, this occasion has never brought me any bad luck. Happily this morning I saw two magpies out of the window at first light. In the semi gloom I did put my knickers on back to front and resisted the urge to adjust the mistake. I’m just so pleased I don’t wear a thong. So, I’m safe. It is well known in supernatural circles that the defiant power of reversed knickers always trumps the hand of doom. 

Far more important is the date tomorrow – 14th February. I guess it’s potentially the best or worst day of the year. You love him. He loves you. He loves you not. He loves you but doesn’t know the date. He loves you but he’s a creepy stalker with dog breath and a socially plausible excuse! She sends you a card out of capricious vanity….dear me – just remember what happened when Bathsheba sent Mr Boldwood a teasing card in Thomas Hardy’s novel “Far From The Madding Crowd”. Yes – it’s an interpersonal swine-field. 

Like most things spontaneous and romantic- they can be improved with good management. For the past two weeks I’ve been indicating to my man that there may be a package arriving that he is not to open because it may contain items he should not see yet. I’ve been casually talking about the Valentine’s merchandising in Walmart as I complain about regular items being moved. 

“Do you know they’ve moved the unwashed organic potatoes so that they can sell more cards with gaudy quilted hearts!” I say casually. He nods. He gets it. He loves it when I talk dirty.

But, it’s a wonderful festival of sentiment. It can be over the top and under the bottom but that’s how love is. Check out my Valentine poem. It’s an indulgent fest of vulgar velvet but that’s the way I love my man.

Emma Thinx: You are not my heart. You are its beat.










Thank You For The Music

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At last – my chance to jump on a band wagon.

This is often a sharp elbowed world and sometimes for me the struggle seems too hollow to compete. I’ve noticed lately that I slice the cabbage for coleslaw slightly thicker and call my weed ridden flower bed a Nature Garden. The re-branding of indolence into positive action is going to be my contribution to society. Last week in Walmart I actually found myself loitering furtively in the ready made coleslaw aisle. The end is nigh. Time to listen to more gentle music.

Virtuoso courtesy (and music)


However, my entire purpose here is to thank the band that played in the park on Sunday. (See my last blog). I forgot to give them a plug. They are called the Albion Band. As a trombonista I am an extreme affectionista (Oh why don’t these words exist?) of all things brassy and blown. I tell the world on this page a profound truth – you do not know loving lips until you have kissed those of a vibrating virtuoso.  

At the end of the concert I went over to the artistes in order to take a photo of their logo. A lovely young lady saw me trying to get a shot and held up her music stand. Now, this was a small thing but it was a big courtesy to a nosy stranger.  

If the members of the Southampton Albion Band don’t know the pleasure they brought to the Romsey Memorial Park on Sunday, let me here record my profound thanks.

Emma Thinx: The blissful listener is the true musical instrument