I really do believe that I must be the only woman in Barnsley that hates going clothes shopping and yes, I know I’m in the minority.

I can’t help but find it so stressful. I usually wait until I have no choice and then armed with bag, phone, purse and clothing that is easy to remove I march off to war.

I can not do with too many layers to take off and then put back on and I hardly ever go clothes shopping in the winter; far too many layers to be faffing about with.

So, after building myself up I toddled off to the Matalan and I must admit that I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself as I put various items to try on in my basket.

I tend to have a good look and take as many items as possible just so as I don’t have to keep getting dressed and getting something else. No! I have no time, or energy for that matter, to be toing and froing backwards and forwards.

But I had forgotten that in the changing rooms they have, for whatever reason only known to people higher up and God himself removed all the seating.

So, there I was not knowing where to put my bag. Then of course there’s my clothing, I mean what do they expect me to do with it. I carefully hung it, with my bag on the hook that said ‘want’ above it.

Things weren’t going too badly, I whipped clothing on and off like I was a professional. Then, I came to a pair of snug-fitting jeans.

This is going to be a problem, I thought. How in God’s name do I get one leg in and then the other, if there is nowhere to sit down. I now want you to picture the scene.

A middle-aged woman trying hard to balance on one leg whilst trying to put the other leg through a hole without toppling over. I leaned myself against the cubicle walls making noises that no-one should ever have to listen to.

The hole at the bottom of the jeans seemed a lot smaller than I had anticipated. To be honest I think that a small field mouse would have struggled to fit through it, but I wasn’t going to give up now, and after what seemed like a lifetime, I had managed to get both legs through the jean holes.

Now I had to try to pull them up. I must tell you, that unless I was Paul Daniels it was never going to happen. I wriggled around the cubicle. I jumped up and down, having to pause several times to have a rest, wishing that there was a bloody seat to rest on.

After several minutes I gave in, realising that there was just no way these jeans were going to get past my knees. Wow! I thought ‘no more chocolate for me’.

But the big problem came when I tried to take them off. Without a seat I just couldn’t get them over my feet. I may have to walk out of the shop with the jeans trailing around my legs, trying not to trip up as I waddle to the check out…

Eventually, after almost giving myself a heart attack, I managed to set myself free. I got dressed – I’d had more than enough for one day.

I looked at the coat hanger. I couldn’t understand it, it was my size. Then as I folded the jeans to hang them back up, I glimpsed at the size in the back.

I could feel myself inwardly screaming. They’re two sizes too small! Had I wanted a workout I would have gone to a gym.

I calmly put all the clothing back on the unwanted rail and left the shop. It’s the simple things, like clothing on the right hangers, a small seating area in the cubicle that make clothes shopping so much more enjoyable.

And I can assure you, that was certainly not!