Some people think I’m odd. They look at me and think, “That’s not normal.” It’s not their fault, for I am in a minority, I know that.

I am talking, of course, about my love of supermarket shopping.

I can drift through the aisles with a smile on my face. It’s not that I like sniffing fabric softener or squeezing toilet rolls; simply that I love food. My joy comes in making up a menu based on what catches my eye.

But while the three of us have shopped together from time to time, I have only once tried to take Rosalie on my own. I couldn’t do it when she was very little because wheelchair trolleys don’t have child seats built in.

Now that she is a little older, I am presented with a different problem, as demonstrated on a recent shopping expedition. We were clothes shopping this time and Rosalie decided that, while browsing for clothes was boring, it was a fine chance to play hide-and-seek. As any parent will testify, shopping often involves dividing attention between your child and the goods on display, and it was only after she had disappeared that my wife Penny and I looked at each other and did the whole “I thought she was with you” thing.

It is partly my fault. I’m always the one who starts hide-and-seek at home, being unable to resist the challenge of folding myself into the wardrobe or pretending to be a scatter-cushion.

In shops, though, I can’t see over the racks or shelves. It takes very little for Rosalie to give me the slip, and she can easily lose me around the corner of supermarket chiller cabinets.

Back in the clothes shop, we tried calling her, our heart-rates quickening and our calls becoming louder, more insistent. People started to notice that something was wrong and began looking around for her, too.

Just as we really started to panic, there was a muffled giggle and Rosalie peeked out from under a rack of jackets. I had to admire her ingenuity.

She had won this round, and also reinforced my determination to restrict my shopping trips to solo ventures.

www.timrushby-smith.com