Leonie Couper: Ankle-whackers take off for Demolition Derby

COMMENT

I've had it with supermarket trolleys. They have caused me strife from the time my first-born was old enough to sit in their cunningly contrived child-carrying compartment.

From that seat all manner of tasty additions to the shopping list could be hauled from shelves and stowed under the all-encompassing bib, while I pondered choices between product and price.

The presence of these morsels only emerged when, after paying for my goods, the checkout operator politely asked, was there anything else I would like to declare?

I thought my trolley battles were over when my son could walk, but that was the stage he chose to push the trolley himself.

Elderly browsers were understandably annoyed when a missile trolley advanced on them while they studied their choices.

Once free of toddlers I, for some unfathomable reason, became absent-minded and began arriving at the checkout counter with someone else's trolley; worse, with their handbag neatly stowed in the once-upon-a-child carrier. I have since overcome this failing, but trolleys are still the bane of my life.

For instance, they are never satisfied with a few items in their cavernous interiors. They have insatiable appetites.

Before I can say, "I only came in for bread and dog roll", the trolley is bulging and bloated. It then rolls ponderously towards the exit, picking up rubbish stickers and chocolate bars en route, before emptying its contents, and my wallet, at the checkout.

The last straw came one wet, windy day. I had triumphantly done my shopping; not coveted another trolley, not been ankle-whacked and not had my trolley wheels go cross-eyed and rush off at right angles.

I neatly tucked my trolley into the front of another, ran to my car and leapt in. Like a movie in slow motion, I saw my trolley pull away from its mate and move off, picking up pace and cantering towards the narrow gap between my car and a neighbouring tank, known as a Remuera tractor. Miraculously, it missed us both.

I raced out into the rain in pursuit. There were targets aplenty as it galloped a slalom course before ending up beside a hedge on the far side of the car park.

I returned it to the ranks, jamming it so hard that the next person to use it would likely enter the supermarket with a train of 20 monsters.

I've since given serious thought to trolley design modification. A slim-line model with buffers and brakes would be an improvement, along with parking bays along supermarket aisles. Failing that, my retired husband loves new challenges...

* Leonie Couper is a reader from Browns Bay.


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