When I come here I hibernate at 'home' (my mum and dad's). It's the only place it's ok to lie around in my jarmies all day and just watch telly. The only place I don't feel guilty and depressed for doing so. These days I can't even face town and only leave to go bargain hunting in the cheap shops round here.
My mum is not well and only does online shopping these days as she's usually not well enough to go out on her own. So she took the opportunity of having me as her patient taxi driver to go to all the cheap shops she hasn't been able to get to. Iceland, B&M, Poundland, Home and Bargain (as the true Liverpudlians will always call it) and finally, Asda. It was a riot.
The point of this story is to tell you that - like the tight, scabby meff (that's a word I believe only scousers understand) that I am - I picked up two Asda receipts (and my mum picked up one) off the floor in the car park. They were nice big, long ones. I did it so I could put them in the Asda Price Guarantee website and get a voucher I can use off my shopping. I got vouchers for £1.29, £4.55 (and £1.92 off my mum's). So that was exciting. Free money, innit?
It's a thing, that. It's called wombling. Liverpool is the best place to do it as Liverpudlians love to spend. Except this one.
(Oh and I picked up a lottery ticket too. There was nothing on that one.)
So that's my guilty secret. One of em anyway.
I always thought wombling was a bit dodgy but, coincidentally, I read an article about it last night which said Asda don't mind as long as you don't pick them up in the store.