Tesco, Britain’s leading leading supermarket chain, has a branch in Douglas.

Tesco began in 1924 and its success has been a classic example of hard work and shrewd management.

Judging by the amount of traffic, the Douglas branch is no exception, and is obviously very popular with the local shopper.

Personally, I can’t stand the place. If I get any closer to Tesco than the end of Lake Road, I get pains in my chest. I can find no logical reason to explain the way that it affects me. It is what it is.

A bright, clean, well stocked supermarket with pleasant staff who appear to enjoy their work.

But ask me to go in through the door, and I feel a panic attack coming on.

I have given my problem some serious thought, and this is the only conclusion that I can arrive at.

There is an invisible beam above the main entrance that shines down on everyone who goes in through the door.

Everyone it touches turns into, and I hate to use this word, a zombie.

For the duration of their visit, the customers assume a type of catatonic trance. They just seem to wander aimlessly round the aisles, being dragged along by their trolleys.

They remind me of those automatic lawn mowers that wander around the back garden. They can cut the grass all on their own but never actually bump into something that they shouldn’t.

And just watch the staff.

One group are always filling the shelves from their extra large trolleys, and on the other hand, another gang are filling their extra large trolleys with goods that they are taking from the shelves.

The whole operation is under the constant surveillance of what would appear to be managers.

These individuals are easily identifiable. They are to be seen, smartly dressed, telephone pressed to an ear, looking nervously up and down the aisles.

All of which, leads me, seamlessly, to this week’s subject.

Now there’s a well known saying that tells us that nothing is new, and that everything has been done before.

You can guarantee that whatever is today’s ’must-have’, be it short skirts or tattoos, cornflakes or top hats, someone will have an old photo of their granny, or their old uncle Jack, wearing it or doing it, which is why that Tesco person is taking stuff from the shelf and putting it into his or her trolley.

Someone at Tesco has thought of a brilliant idea. Home delivery.

It is so simple, I’m surprised that no-one has thought of it before. You just order what you need, and hey presto, before you can say ’ready meal’, your order is coming up the garden path.

Now my first reliable memories date from when I was about five or six years old.

I am now in my late 70s, so you can easily work it out. I can well remember goods of all description being delivered to, or offered for sale at your doorstep over 70 years ago. That’s right, it has all been done before.

In Pully, the day would start with the milk. Isle of Man Dairies, seven days each week, rain or shine, would be there. The milkman, from memory a Mr Winstanley, and his horse, Dolly, would deliver our daily pint.

I can remember milk in bottles, and I can remember standing, jug in hand, for my turn to have to have it filled from a churn.

Fresh bread came from ’Quirks’ and ’Elders’, two well known Douglas bakers. A couple of rival fish merchants from Peel were regular visitors. They would park on strategic corners and ring their bells.

I well remember the call, ’Fresh Herring, Peel Herring’, twelve for a shilling.

I’ll have to go. There’s a man with a box of groceries at the front door. I think he’s at the wrong address.