I suppose I shall just have to open my heart to you and confess my sins, after all its not everyone that has had her nose tweaked in a supermarket !!!

The definition of tweak is to "pinch or pull with a sharp sudden movement"......

We had an uncle who was an affectionate "nose tweaker" and it used to annoy me more than a wee bit, I mean I don't exactly have a delicate retrousse nose, not one of those little rosebud ones they talk about in story books.....it's more of an arched Roman type ....or possibly an aristocratic nose ..... well.....I suppose......OK... to be blunt its a CONK !! (But it still does not like to be tweaked !!!!!)

But tweaked it was, well and truly in Bradfield TM a few Saturdays ago......

As usual we were rushing....little She- Who- Must -Run and I were gathering a load of goodies to take to our now retired Gogo in Kezi, so we had a fair sized trolly and we joined the long queue patiently and uncomplainingly as most Zimbabweans do these days.

However it would seem that not all Zimbabweans queue patiently, because a merry gang of party goers had apparently collected their four giant cake boxes filled with gooey cakes from the bakery, and were determined not to join the queue as they had "pre ordered" their cakes.

So ignoring the lengthy queues they tucked in behind me and began to argue with the till attendant (also behind me) that they should be given priority to pay, despite the patient folk in the long queues behind them.

Now apart from having a Nose Of Note, I have also established a rather distinguished posterior during my many happy years of doughnut eating.

So I find it difficult to bend over and unload my groceries, as the till aisles in TM are very narrow and every time I bend over to disgorge my purchases from the trolly, the till attendant at the till point behind me, is in mortal danger of being knocked off his stool....

But nothing daunted, our Merry Foursome tucked in cosily behind me, digging into me with their happy knees, knocking my back with their four giant cake boxes, and bashing me in the back of the head with their elbows.

Not even the size of my posterior could dissuade them from cuddling me, cracking me and crushing me, but we have now become subservient and know our place these days.

So She-Who-Must-Run and I merely muttered under our breath and ignored them as best we could as they were not in our queue, but the folk in their queue were not as subservient and ladylike. A number of them engaged in verbal fisticuffs for at least ten minutes while the four fiends stood firmly behind me in most intimate proximity, and hurled abuse back and forth.

By this time most of the folk in our queue had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and crept off to join other queues, leaving She-Who-Must-Run (five foot nothing and weighing in at fifty kgs) and Yours Truly (Five foot nothing and weighing in at considerably more) to face the music.

Now the Leader of the Gang, the most voluble, most vocal, most vindictive, (obviously the self elected Chairman of the Workers Committee at a mine machine company in town I learned later) was delighted at this turn of events and he and his Merrie Men moved like lightning into the space once my trolly had been removed, and the Ring Leader placed his vast cake box PLONK..........on top of my purchases, my handbag and my cheque book just as I was commencing to write my cheque.

Well, enough is enough wouldn't you say, so I calmly picked up his giant cake box and placed it FIRMLY on top of the sweet / cigarette dispensers to the side of the till.

BAD MOVE - Workers Committee Chairman, now exceedingly riled at not being allowed to queue jump, and at being berated by all and sundry in the queues behind me, now saw his chance to vent his anger. Screeching at me with eyes afire, he grabbed his cake box and showed me that I had damaged his ghastly green icing....

It was one of those indescribable cakes with white icing and decorated with emerald green and puce pink trimming. The writing read "My Love Forever" ........

I stared at this cake in horror, not because I had smudged a tiny soupcon of the icing but because I could not believe that ANYONE could possibly love this monster !!!!

And suddenly all that was ladylike, all the nice things that my mother had ever taught me about Godly qualities, loving thy neighbour and all that, left me in a flash and I screeched back at the W.C.C.....told him to MOVE BACK.....GET OUT OF MY SPACE....AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

Well, that was just what he wanted, someone smaller than him to pick on, so his hand shot forward like a snake and well.....tweaked....yes....tweaked with a good deal of ferocity.....my poor little unsuspecting nose.

Little She-Who-Must-Run was most alarmed, she could see that Mother was about to give him a left hook, or at worst kick him in his cake box, so all two bricks and a brave little ticky of her, shot in between the two of us, arms wide in a manner that was either protecting or threatening. ( I am not quite sure which one of us she was protecting !!!)

Chaos ensured, but tried as I would, I could not reach him or his cake box because my daughter is a tough little cookie...

Witnesses rallied forth to offer their phone numbers in case I decided to charge the Cake Box Quartet with assault, but shaken at the sudden turn of events at being involved in someone else's fight and outraged at my own stupidity at having lost my temper, we left the arena never to return.

DON'T LAUGH....I CAN HEAR YOU.....it's not funny !!!!