Off My Trolley

WOW, we've been really crap at updating this!

What can I say - Pat got promoted, Nat came off his meds, and I was as flaky as I ever am.

So today: Good Deed For The Day

I have just done, my good deed for the day.

Locally there is a B&Q warehouse, which has shopping trolleys of hitherto unknown depravity, outlawlessness, and viciousness.

This scarred and ruthless bunch of wire-frame desperadoes make Clint Eatwood's "man with no name" and Sid Vicious look like dapper gentlemen, and the stars of WWF look like a bunch of beansprout-eating nuns.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the trolleys working their sentences out at my local B&Q - or perhaps, being harboured, I know little of trolley culture - are among the most savage and contrary metal steeds known to humanity: they are taking their revenge for every last canal-drowned member of their kind, while glugging down white spirit and snorting glue until their chrome coating peels off in despair - I have lost whole inches of shin flesh already to their incorrigible rage.

They have no tyres, they have fractured plastic on the handbar thingiebob, they have - absolutely no mercy. Mess with them, indeeed pull them out to carry your DIY supplies, purely at your own risk.

So, tonight, I ran out of nail polish remover, and so bethunk to get myself to the local late-night shop before I tucked into a big load of pizza, cider, and Dr Who DVDs.

Terrified

On my way back, I saw a nondescript gentleman heading into the car park of B&Q, pushing a terrified-looking Waitrose trolley (Waitrose being within 200 yards of B&Q) - that poor sad, shiny, green-barred fool was shivering, on its intact grey rubber wheels, with sheer TERROR at the prospect of spending the night - let alone its whole trolley LIFE - among the savage pack who service my local home improvers.

I did the unthinkable - alone, on the public highways at 10.45pm, I did say to this strange trolley hijacking freak, "that trolley comes from Waitrose!" (woo me!) and then offered, and proceeded to, walk it home - where it gratefully belonged, among the rest of the Waitrose green and shiny, well-behaved, NON-CARNIVOROUS, trolleys.

My local W serves organic, fair trade and farmer friendly tasty food to people who cannot leave the house without sporting at least ONE designer label - so you can imagine the poor little trolley's terror at being left to fend for itself among norf London's hardest chipped chrome gangstas.

Luckily the poor beastie met me before it was slammed into perdition, and I left it breathing a sigh of trolleyish relief in Waitrose's carpark, where the worst it will witness is a bit of dogging, and people recycling a large amount of Chardonnay bottles - every day.

I now consider this, a day well spent.