Some people can drone on about cars for hours discussing the minutiae of hub cab maintenance or the merits of one type of widget over another. I see that there are even TV channels devoted to such obsessions though find Jeremy Clarkson efficacious as a cure for my occasional caffeine induced insomnia. Never before have I understood the fascination. Until now. Now I have seen a vehicle that has fixated me as much as any vintage Mercedes.
Admittedly it was more of a trundle than a purr. And it looked as though it might prove unreliable in inclement weather. Yet there rolling gently past me it was. A shopping bag on wheels. Now this was not just any ordinary piece of Granny chic with tatty plastic awning in some fake tartan that I would expect to see for sale alongside the Zimmer frames. This was rather a masterpiece lovingly crafted from willow wicker with funky iron wheels and leather fasteners to secure a tightly woven lid. And it was being pushed along by the kind of girl who makes me feel I have a bad hair day just by looking at her. I almost drooled in the street. If she had been a little less intimidating I may well have asked her where she obtained such a desirable charabanc but something about her manicured stare forbade me from attempting any such bumbling enquiry. Perhaps I really was drooling in the street. Like Mr Toad encountering his first vision of a motoring car I was enraptured. I simply must have one.
Fruitless though has been my search for such a beast. I have scoured the web, haunted farmers markets and craft stalls. With dwindling hope I even tried the high street. But the cute kitsch-ness of the basket seems nowhere to be found. I reflect on the impracticality of wicker in the UK’s rainy clime. And decide that should I be so foolish as to venture to the supermarket in a downpour soggy groceries deserve to be my lot. More to the point perhaps is that it has become rare that I actually endure the marathon queues by going to the supermarket now internet ordered home delivery has started up. Perhaps owning such a magnificent basket on wheels would encourage me to stroll down more often I muse. I could even customise it with one of those calorie-counting pedometers to let me know exactly how many cream cakes I could afford from the bakery without the pounds zooming to my hips. I would of course stop short of inflicting go faster stripes upon such a dear basket. Even someone as clueless and careless about cars as I am knows they are the epitome of naff.
Furthermore, should I should start collecting my own groceries again, there would be no more scrabbling to get carrier bags unloaded from the patiently waiting supermarket deliveryman. Never again the occasional embarrassment of still being in the shower when he arrives. No delivery charges either. Strong as I convince myself my arguments for acquiring such a glorious conveyance are, my points are moot, as despite my hunt I cannot find where to buy one. Perhaps this holy grail of baskets is just not destined for me.
April 7, 2008 at 4:52 am
Claire, this is one very cute piece of writing with a subtley evident wit. One that I confess I stumbled upon quite by accident, but nonetheless has given me a fair chuckle, although to be honest I’ve never seen one of those shopping trolleys constructed of wicker, yet! The only wicker baskets I know of are attached to hot air balloons, which I fear would prove a tad inpracical in the high street, although add coasters and you could shop once a year for all the non-consumables. I never knew that writing was your forte, you weave a fine spin of words indeed (pun intended)
May 3, 2008 at 10:29 am
Why thank you Matt, am glad it made you laugh.
May 5, 2008 at 7:15 am
http://www.manufactum.co.uk/Produkt/174286/838655/AndersenWickerShoppingTrolley.html
Perhaps, something like this? Although, I suspect your search for such a basket may be entirely tongue in cheek.
By the way, that quote by Arthur O’Shaughnessy is really great, I do like it a great deal. Simply timeless.