Friends are funny creatures. You think they're on your side. They probably are. Yet they say things, make encouraging noises, then just when you're making plans they swing the other way like weather vanes.
On two occasions recently, I've had a friend say, "Why don't you look at houses round where I live?" So, at a cost of two hours minimum each way on tubes and buses, I, all fired with enthusiasm, have gone to see houses, only to be told by the friends in question that I 'wouldn't really like to live round there because...'
Is it that the thought of having me five minutes away is too close for comfort and strikes terror into their hearts? (Oh no, she'll expect me to run her to the supermarket!). Is it that, knowing my penchant for moaning, they're worried I'll blame them when I discover the bus only runs three times an hour and the supermarket is so far away that I'd have to start using Ocado?
I have bought a shopping trolley. Oh yeah! I have finally given in. It's very pretty, covered in orange and blue 1960s-style daisies. I haven't plucked up courage to use it yet. Vanity refuses to allow me to label myself an 'old dear',. Once you do that, you are finally relinquishing your last vestige of sexuality and admitting you have Steradent and pile cream in the bathroom and are already putting money aside for your funeral.
So will I be seen dragging my psychedelic trolley round Barnet or Nunhead? It remains to be seen. In the meantime, I shall practise blocking the bus aisles in Hillingdon.
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1 comment:
Are we going to get to see a 'photo of this hippy trolley? :-D
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