The phone rings. I answer, quite chirpily for 6pm, “Hello darling.”
“Hello, I can’t find the yoghurt.”
“Yes you can, it’s just above the milk.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Are you standing in front of the milk fridge?”
“Yes.”
“What’s on the shelf directly above the milk.”
“Yoghurt, but not the live stuff you want!”
“Yes, it is.”
“It can’t be! What colour should the pot be?”
“Green and white.”
“Well, there is one that’s green and white, but it’s that Ander… what’s-it stuff we always have.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“But it’s 1.8% fat… you hate low fat…”
“Usually, yes, but this is the only active yoghurt you can get at Karstadt, so beggars can’t be choosers…”
“But it’s not active.”
“It has ‘active’ written on the pot.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s active yoghurt.”
“Yes it does.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Yes it does.”
“No it…” Andreas pauses, I guess he’s reading the label. “Oh, it’s got L+ in the small print. That means it’s…”
“Active yoghurt….”
“OK! Found it!”
“Let me guess, you were looking at it all along?”
Click… brrrrr… sigh…
