Bloody Rubbish

It’s a good one said my mum. It’s Fisher Price. Got it from a car boot sale. My mum and dad love car boot sales. Fresh air, banter barter and bargains. And lots of bloody rubbish. I’m Not saying that new toy (new being new to us, but obviously being from a car boot sale not normally new unless you buy selo-tape, pens and hotdogs, although the hotdogs don’t taste new) wasn’t a nice gesture, as any gift to my son certainly is. Although he’s got a few too many boot sale bargains to know what’s good for him. When he gets all his collection of cars and books and trains and puzzles all scattered around the floor, we have to evacuate the building and sit on the roof. Perched precariously looking down through the velux roof window on him and his kingdom below.

It’s certainly good to know that, whilst we gaze longingly towards the lights of Lidl and think of all the specials available this week, we bask in the knowledge that we are recycling toys. We are helping to save the planet. A bit. Instead of rushing over to Woollies or ToysRrUs and buying the latest piece of over hyped crap from China, we moosie on down to a boot sale and gander at the goods. Don’t always buy but can pick up a bargain and know that the toy or item has been used to full potential/maximum.

Anyway. Back to the new toy my mum bought Ue. He certainly was attached to it from the word go. Couldn’t go anywhere without it. Same day that week I needed to go down to B&Q and buy a bag of concrete, as you do. Only I had to take Ue with me. Fine no problem. And we had to take the dog with us too. But can you take dogs in B&Q? I don’t know. Well there’s never any staff in the place is there so who would know anyway? My best idea that day was to get a trolley, as carrying a bag of concrete, a kid and a dog does not work. Hop in! I said to Ue. Although being 3 he couldn’t hop in, but it worded well in this writing. No, I mean, come on, get in the trolley, Ue.

NO! I want to walk!

Oh come on now. Push you around, I thought. Easy life. Sept I didn’t say it did I. NO I want to walk. So he walked with the dog in tow. Practically empty, we sneaked between the isles of nails and screws and handles, across to the timber hoping not to be seen with a dog in the shop. I wondered why all trolleys in hardware superstores veer off to one side. I find myself leaning at a odd angle to try and get the thing to manoeuvre somewhat straight. We came across an odd looking chap who looked fresh from the move Deliverance. He was driving a sweeping machine. Swishing about we took care to be avoided. Ue was encouraged into the trolley with the dog as I told him the machine was a dragon or a crackon or something of menace. Locating the concrete, I suffered to get it in the trolley. Then on towards the checkout.

I expected the worst at the checkout. With us being so close to the assistant she was bound to see the dog and say something. Funnily though she just gave me a wry smile and a knowing look. There and then Ue insisted on getting out of the trolley at the checkout and walking the dog! Gosh could I suffer any more embarrassment? Yes. Whilst looking back towards a group of cashiers who all Ahhhhhd in unison I heaved Ue out of the trolley and he confidently led, out of the door, Pongo his dog.