He bent over to pick up the cucumber and a brown hen's egg fell out of his shirt pocket. It didn't break. Hard boiled, I thought.
But the sound it made upon impact was sadder than a whole box of smashed eggs and I think we both knew it.
'I take a slice of cucumber,' he said, 'and I take a hard boiled brown hen's egg, and I suck on the cucumber slice, and I put the brown hen's egg in my pocket, and I walk around ASDA.'
As he said, 'ASDA', a crane fly flew into his face. Blake acted like it was in his mouth. He bent over with his hands on his knees and blew raspberries at the floor, trying to expel the insect. Then he straightened up slightly and put his hand through his hair a few times, each time examining his fingers, to make sure it wasn't in there either. Then he composed himself and grinned. His grin twitched in time with a squeaky trolley going up a nearby aisle.
I asked him if he knew where the Brita filter cartridges were. He said, 'the air conditioning in here gives me big bogies.' He picked one out of his nose and wiped it on a box of cereal bars.
'Disgusting, I hate raisins,' he said. Strangely, the cereal bars he was looking at weren't the kind with raisins. I wondered if raisin was James Blake's word for bogie.
Later he was behind me at the checkout. He was talking to a middle aged woman with a NHS ID badge clipped to her blouse. He was being loud and his voice was really fucking annoying.
'Basically I walk around ASDA and the songs enter the egg and when I get home I eat the egg. Say, why don't you come home with me. I'll show you my big synthesizer.'
'No thanks,' said the woman. 'Tonight I will be busy listening to my Arthur Russell CDs and stressing out about the NHS.' She pointed to her badge. James Blake looked at the badge. He read aloud: 'Sarah Pike'.
At the other side of the checkout, James caught up with Sarah Pike.
'When I said I would show you my big synthesizer, Sarah, I really meant I would show you my average-sized cock.'
'I'm sorry, Sir, although I work for the NHS, I'm really just a secretary. No medical training. You should contact your GP if you need it checked.'
'No. I'm not... there's nothing wrong with... I meant we should have sex together.'
The woman looked embarrassed. 'No thanks, I really hate your music, and I don't like your nose or the way the corners of your mouth are plumbed into your cheeks.'
'Do you like egg?'
When I got home I listened to The Wilhelm Scream. It gave me big bogies and made me realise that sadness isn't romantic and happiness is mainly something that happens on holidays abroad, and even then, not always.