I was in Lidl's today to pick up some of their Frankfurters. I like Lidl's because it has aisles full of incredible items at bargain prices, none of them presented in a manner that makes any sense to me.

At the moment the good folk in Germany are trying to get us to drop our pretensions about having a summer and get in trim for the winter Olympics in Vancouver. Thermal Ski socks are a great buy at £1.29, as are the Nordik Walking Poles at £14.99.

As they have a habit of trying to shift just about anything that comes to their random German minds, I have found that Lidl's is as wonderful a place for browsing as any Innovations Catalogue. As I skimmed my eyes over the jogging shorts, spanner sets and tomato plant feed, I also thought for a moment that we were being offered some NCIS surplus, when I saw the mysterious box containing a Body Composition Scale (£16.99) - until I realized they were still on their health kick, preying on the misplaced public obsession with body mass indices to sell us all a fancy bathroom scale. This would go with the toilet brush sets blocking the aisle past the main meat section. (For some reason they have spread potential hot dog purchases across three different parts of our local shop - some sausages are in jars by the tinned goods on the right wall, some in the chilled cabinets on the back wall, and others are in a chilled cabinet next to the yoghurt and desserts, away on the wall to the left. The bread rolls are miles away from all three hiding places). In a place that sells electric hedge trimmers next to children's toys, there is no point in asking why. People who are confused about their way round Lidl's, or their direction in life generally can always buy a ceramic Buddha to 'bring the wisdom and balance of the East into your home'. So much more reasonable at £3.99 than a trip to Prasat Hin Phimai, or Gal Viharaya.

Having found spiritual enlightenment and my Frankfurters, I was just on my way to the check-out when I realised our Germanic cousins were no longer concerning themselves with my health and soul, but improving my mind as well. A new feature for our local shop, a large wire basket conveniently opposite the orange juice offered me a chance of an uplifting read for only £1.49. I did not at first recognize any of the authors - Dale Brown (Fatal Terrain), Virginia Andrews (Heaven), Gordon Kent (Force Protection) or Craig Thomas (Emerald Decision). They may all be successful and well-known, popular even, but they were sparking not an ounce of recognition or interest, either by author, punchy title or cover design. But there, sitting half hidden in the pile, with uncharacteristic modesty, as if trying to fit in, but also ashamed of itself - fearful that it did indeed fit in in these august commercial surroundings, (and at this bargain basement price), was a book with an almost unnoticeable cover waiting to be picked up, like a guilty Radovan Karadžić in a beard. Sitting on the wire just yards from the cold cuts, it cheaped at me like a scrawny chicken in a battery farm that knows it may soon be time to have its neck ringed. There it lay, on its final chance at being sold and read or pulped and forgotten - a work by an author who really did make an impression on me. To cut a long story short - a book by Jeffrey Archer.