In the folly of a trolley
The times that I have chosen to do my
walking exercises to avoid encounters with unruly owners with their devil dogs
in public parks present a new kind of solitude and quietness for contemplation
and reflection. Then again are the observations one makes of the somewhat
ordinary and yet attractive.
The uncharted and relatively insignificant
life of the supermarket trolley is one that seems to fill me with intrigue and
genuine interest. I will use trolley for the rest of the blog.
Typically, a trolley will be arrayed
with similar trolleys at the entrance of a supermarket, a refundable charge for
use allows the trolley to be detached from its mooring to other trolleys and after
usage, it is returned for the click mooring to release the coin inserted to
gain use of the trolley.
The trolley quite adrift
In some instances, the customer fails
to return the trolley to the mooring post and the coin is trapped in the trolley
release mechanism, but that is not the issue here. Obviously, the command and
control of a trolley around the supermarket and when wheeled towards a vehicle
in the car park can present an irreverent waywardness no matter how much the
customer attempts to steer it. It is a wonder that licenses are not required to
steer those beasts.
However, my chronicling of the odyssey
of the trolley comes from seeing the trolleys a long way away from the home
supermarket, on a pathway, in the river, idling in the fields, or full of
rubbish rather than consumer goods and groceries.
Meeting the tunnel trolley
For instance, walking through a
pedestrian tunnel three days ago, there was a trolley halfway into the tunnel
party blocking the pathway and a bit askew. I did wonder where it had come
from. Perish the thought that it had automation, or it arrived there by some
poltergeist phenomenon. A certain human being must have got it that far and
decided to abandon it there.
The next day, the trolley was on its
back, the handlebar and the hind wheels on the ground looking up like the wire
sculpture of a yawning hippopotamus. The thought crossed my mind, but I did not
dwell on it, as for the questions, there were many to think of too.
The story-making trolley
Then, at another brisk walk through the tunnel,
the trolley had righted itself, now on its four wheels and did I notice there
was a wheel brake to stop it from being wheeled away from the perimeter of the home
supermarket. Yet, it had escaped by velocity, anti-social behaviour, or a
quest for liberation. Let’s not wonder too much. It was now well placed at the
entrance of the tunnel as if standing sentry.
You can expect, I did expect to see
the trolley again as I traipsed through the pedestrian tunnel again, but it had
gone. I half-expected to see it along the route between the interconnecting
tunnels, footpaths, and bridges, but no, it was nowhere to be seen. Not that I
have trolleys for company, but there might have been an unspoken conversation
between us that was missed on my last traversal.
The trolley back at home
Another 750 yards on, it clicked,
there is a large supermarket and the trolley from its colour scheme must have
belonged there. If I had tagged it, as one cannot take the name of the trolley,
I do wonder of out of the formation of trolleys in resolute order bettering a
military parade, I could have asked the trolley for fallout for a dressing down
or a commendation.
Herein is the quandary:
for the trolleys that roam,
a long way from home,
is there any hope,
for how they should cope?