Diary of a Working Mum

Today, I needed to grab some bits from the supermaket. I instantly regretted it when I saw how busy it was. Trying to meander down the crowded aisles, I started to feel hot and bothered and suddenly couldn’t remember what I needed to buy. I had written a list on my phone. Putting the basket on the floor, I went to retrieve my phone from my bag. However, I overheard something that stopped me in my tracks. There was a family stood about three metres saway from me—mum, dad, and three young kids. Their voices strained and heavy with frustration. They weren’t arguing over trivial things like which cereal to buy. No, this was different. It was the kind of argument born from desperation, the kind that comes when you’re forced to make impossible choices.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” the mom said, her voice low but sharp, as she put back a pack of chicken. “We can’t afford it this week.”

The dad, holding a calculator, muttered something about rising prices and a stretched budget. The mum was clearly embarrased, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. Their kids were too young to fully grasp the situation. They tugged simultaneously at the mums sleeves, asking for snacks they’d probably always gotten before. The mom’s eyes glistened as she gently said, “Not today, sweetie.” It was a gut punch.

This wasn’t just a family squabble—it was the sound of the cost of living crisis squeezing the life out of ordinary people. Eggs, milk, bread—basics that used to be affordable are now luxuries for too many. According to recent reports, food prices in the UK have risen by over 20% in the past two years, while wages stay stagnate. Families like this one are caught in the middle, forced to ration, to prioritize, to say “no” to their kids more often than any parent should.

I pretended to route through my bag, not wanting them to know I had heard. I really wanted to offer to pay for their shopping, or at least buy the kids a snack. On the other hand, I didn’t want to embarass the parents, or make them feel I was intruding, or judging them. As I walked away, my own basket felt heavier. The cost of living crisis isn’t just numbers on the news programmes—it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s happening in the aisles we all walk. That family’s argument wasn’t just theirs; it’s a story playing out across countless homes in the UK. We need to talk about it. We need to do something about it. Because no one should have to argue over whether they can afford to eat.

Let me know what you think, and what you would have done.

Cheerio

E x