Normally I'm a calm, retiring person not easily wound up by petty concerns – as I'm sure regular readers will testify – but this week I had a serious case of trolley rage.

This was the way I spent my Saturday night, enduring the neon hell of my local supermarket. Hardly the way I imagined my 20s going, and I was already pretty wound up about not being able to afford to go out, still, I thought at least it would be a swift visit after all, who goes shopping at 8.30 on a Saturday?

It turns out everyone does. Despite all the tills being open, there were at least three people with massive trolleys full of stuff in every queue. It doesn't matter what time you go in the weekend it's the same old story - which has got me a bit confused...

Looking around at my fellow members of the 'nothing better to do on a Saturday club' I noticed that about a quarter were pensioners, half were families and the others were of the same ilk as me, buying cheap drinks.

Surely the pensioners can go in the week and, without knowing the situation of the families, there must be a more convenient time for them to go? Those who commute to work, like myself, have no choice but to go at the weekend so it's hardly fair for people who have all week to go to clutter up the aisles doing a full-on weekly shop.

Families at least have an excuse, but are pensioner's calendars that rammed in the week that they have to shop on a weekend when everyone who works is there? I know for a fact bingo doesn't have a morning session - so what's the problem?

On seeing the queues I decided the best course of action was to get around the store quickly and get to the tills before they got any worse, only I couldn't because in their infinite wisdom the bosses had decided to move everything round so only people with a lot of time on their hands can find the milk.

Of course, when I finally traced the milk, they didn't have the one I wanted due to the fact the world and his wife had been in there all weekend buying two litres of semi-skimmed milk. One day my trolley rage will get the better of me and I'll start smashing into the displays. Until that day I suppose I'll have to grumble away quietly - or just get a take away every night and avoid shopping altogether.