Just over a month ago. I made an investment. Some mentioned to me they found my purchase somewhat foolhardy. Others described me as old-fashioned. My husband just laughed at me (quite a lot actually).
My buy? A shopping trolley.
No. It’s not one of those tartan things that your granny drags around the supermarket. It’s mainly black, with a single brown stripe. OK admittedly, it could be funkier. And it is possible to purchase funkier ones. But I found myself, as usual, balancing the extra spend on funkiness against the constant agonising cost of rearing four
money-suckers children, on my imaginary scales. And the angels won.
Besides, I had the idea of decorating my new accessory with badges. My 15 year-old actually found this a cool idea. I find it individual. Which is what I am. Essentially. My husband however, finds the whole concept hysterical. He has had a merry few days. Let me just say that.
Despite the obvious joy my badged trolley idea has brought, I found it to be a practical solution too. Say the situation arises that someone else has the same trolley as me, we could avoid a mix up.
Like has happened a few times with the car.
The most traumatic of all being when, as a child, I actually attempted (relentlessly) to open the boot of ‘our car’, so as I could fill it with my parents shopping. They walked right by me. Not acknowledging my existence. Troubled, I asked them where they were going. To our car they informed me. Completely relaxed. The worst part? I looked into the car I had been attempting ‘to break into’ and met the stare of two horrified passengers. Naturally, I fled the situation.
So, my still-to-be-badged trolley (all badges gratefully received by the way ;-)) accompanied me to the shops today. It was the first time we’ve been out alone together. It would be true to say that we have been out before, once or twice, accompanied by children. Resulting in all of the children arguing about ‘who’s allowed to push’. Thus, translated into plain English: until today I have never actually driven my trolley at all. Well, except for that little shot I had on the delivery day, through the house. Once I’d wrestled it away from the children, that is.
And I have to tell you that I am thrilled.
The ride is smooth.
The load is light.
And I managed to only tip it over once.
Not counting dropping it in the middle of the road. Luckily, still empty so no rolling potatoes (that’s another story).
The only real problem I discovered was not forgetting it somewhere. I had to really concentrate. (I hope that in its future it doesn’t become one of those suspect packages, you know the ones the bomb squad runs around exploding).
I proudly stomped through the town with my wares. And it felt good. Up the escalators. Round the bends. Down the stairs.
She coped with it all.
Strangely though, I did not meet any other trolley pullers. All through town. Not even any granny ones.
As we glided blissfully, together through the streets and beyond I thought of even more plus points for my new gadget.
Firstly, it’s a very green solution. After all I won’t need to use shopping bags. Admittedly, I accepted them today. Not wanting my shopping to become confused. And full of desire to protect my breakables.
Then, next year I can attach her to my bike. Once the new supermarket has opened in the spring. And I have bought the correct attachment item. Saving tons of petrol.
And when the shops are busy, like at Christmas time… I can push her through the crowds clearing the way for me, to politely follow.
Finally, I have decided that if the badge idea just looks too silly. I can go online and send for one of those ‘pimp your shopping trolley’ kits. Oh yeah!