With that in mind we parked up round the corner from the first shop and set on our merry way.
Now I could prattle on for ages about what happened next but if, like me, you are a bloke who has accompanied his partner on such an expedition you will already know.
There was the added complication in this instance of the two op shops we knew about from our previous visit ballooning into five separate ones all within walking distance of one another.
Obviously, Mrs P had to visit every single one. It's the law.
I'd had enough after precisely 23.7 seconds of entering the first op shop so I retreated to the seat along the road to read the graffiti scratched into the timber from generations of men waiting for their wives to finish shopping.
Stuff like ''Walter 1957 – 1963'' - I'm not sure if that's how long he was waiting but I'm sure you know what I mean.
Any way, with darkness now what seemed like three hours closer than it was before we started, Mrs P emerged from her trance-like state with a touch of the guilts and an offer of food.
Not just any food mind. In this particular case it was a Subway roll.
To the uninitiated Subway is a bread roll made fresh where you select what goodies go in it. I presume the railway station connotation comes via the various stations you stop at to choose your fillings. Bread, meat, cheese, salads, sauces etc.
Now I don't mind a Subway at all.
Occasionally, if I'm on my own I might push the boat out and get the thing jam-packed with all the fatty, creamy things I know I'm not supposed to have but I can't help myself. I'm sure you do the same.
On this occasion, however, Mrs P is buying and because she has some very strict dietary issues that don't allow her many of the things I enjoy, I try to support her by following her own regime.
It is also a bit easier because there's so much choice at Subway. So, I ask her to choose for me.
Now if you think about it, getting your partner to choose your sandwich fillings is a bit like one of those games you play with your mates just before you get married. You know what I mean, it's a test to see how well you know them or they know you.
For instance, Subway offers sun-dried tomatoes, which I hate. Does Mrs P know that? You get my drift.
So any way, we are standing there in the queue of half a dozen or so, with another couple a bit further back from us, and I inform the young lady behind the counter Mrs P will be choosing on my behalf.
As the others watch bemused I tell them it's a test of the strength of our relationship, which brings forth a few giggles, especially when my beloved dithers over the lettuce.
It's a resounding '"no" by the way. Don't get me started unless you want to miss your bus.
Eventually, the fillings are complete and she's not done too bad, much to the delight of the queue who are now well into the experiment.
Then the other couple decide to have a go too.
Unfortunately, their experiment did not meet with as much success and laughter as ours.
As I sat tucking into my roll I distinctly heard him order cucumber and her saying how much she had always hated it and, I quote, "thanks to your mother". Seriously, I'm dying to know that story.
Things didn't seem to get much better either when it came to the sauces. The poor bloke chose a blue cheese dressing for his lady who responded with a look of utter disgust that suggested he didn't really know her at all and if she'd had easy access to something sharp his manhood would be lucky to escape out the door attached to the rest of his body.
They did make it outside eventually, but they were arguing all the way.
By the sound of it he always thought she liked those hot little jalapeno peppers. As it was, she made it clear he would be picking them out of her roll once they got home.
The last bit was a bit muffled as they got in their car and drove off but it seemed to be something along the lines of he could pick them out of her roll and she hoped he'd choke on them.
Anyway, eventually my own bread roll was consumed.
You could say, like a train on the subway, we reached the end of the line.
I just hope it wasn't the same for that other couple and their relationship.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to editor@whanganuichronicle.co.nz (Kevin Page in subject field).
