Scrubbing up nicely for a trip to the supermarket photo session - Susan Morrison

I think he enjoys the challenge of the tight turn to get to the spaces on the top floor of possibly the most scenic car park in Edinburgh.

Next time we go, I’ll make sure I’m ready for my close up, Mr Waitrose

I like these little trips to the posher side of town. A drift around Waitrose is very peaceful, especially for one used to the daily drama of Leith’s Kirkgate.

Not that I’m dissing the retail experience at the Foot of the Walk. Our shops are great and the staff are brilliant, but there are moments when the whole thing can turn just a tad action movie, with blue flashing lights and police suddenly all over the place.

On the last couple of occasions it has been shoplifters. The last one had at least two cops sitting on him and was loudly proclaiming he was innocent, in the face of the evidence falling out of his pockets.

We strolled into Waitrose like we belonged and fearlessly perused the impressive fresh meat selection. I watched him wrestle with the desire to bellow the traditional Yorkshire battle cry ‘How much?” He failed twice.

It's another reason I enjoy our visits to Waitrose. I think they’re good for his heart. The way his pulse rate rises when he sees the prices is practically the equivalent of a gym workout.

Don’t get me wrong, that meat is worth every penny. And clearly, it’s covetable. Up above either end of the aisle there are two screens, with a sign underneath saying ‘Recording in Progress’. Obviously the shouty lads who lift steak in Lidl like to vary their supplier.

Well, suddenly I realised I was being filmed. I could see myself on the screen. What’s a girl to do? I had come to buy herbal tea and artisan cheese, not to be the main character in ‘Selecting Sausages’.

My wardrobe choice was just not equal to the task. This was my ‘kicking about the house’ clobber. There was not a scrap of makeup on my face, and anyway, the cameras were picking up my less-good side.

To be honest, at my age, neither side is particularly great, but I think my left just wins out slightly, which meant I could only walk along the aisle sideways.

I looked like I was having a PacMan moment in front of the steak and chops.

What if this footage became part of some greater investigation? I caught my husband's arm.

“What if”, I said, “there’s an ex-KGB agent right behind us, about to be assassinated by an old Cold War adversary in revenge for a mission that went wrong, possibly by whacking them with the bony end of a 28-day-aged Tomahawk steak, and MI5 sees me looking like this?”

“Mince”, he replied.

“You say that”, I said, grimly, “but for a lot of cold warriors the wall never came down.”

Yes, I’ve been reading a lot of spy novels lately.

“No”, he said, “This mince. It's really good quality and quite reasonable. Do you want chilli for dinner?”

Clearly unaware of the dangers we were in, I abandoned him to his dreams of TexMex dining and scuttled away sideways.

Next time we go, I’ll make sure I’m ready for my close up, Mr Waitrose.