9.45am: My mother and I would like to apologize to anyone who was near the fruit and veg counter in the Co-op in Egremont on Saturday morning, at about 10.00am - especially the ones who were sidling nervously around us and taking a detour behind the bakery gondola.

It was all my fault.

My mother was harmlessly occupied sorting through the tomatoes when something in the salad section caught my eye. Giggling insanely, I picked up the packet and showed it to the Matriarch, who read the label, paused for a moment, then started to cackle like a hyena. Within moments we were both completely helpless, clutching the vegetable racking, each other, the trolley … anything that would prevent us from collapsing in an ignominious, hysterical heap on the floor.

The label that caused the problem?

“Free range egg noodles”

Can’t you just see them, basking in the grass, wriggling contentedly in the duck pond, sniffing around in the hedgerows … ?

No? Oh. You probably had to be there …