Squeaking Trolley Lady

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to follow an old lady pulling a squeaking trolley.

I heard her coming as we approached each other on the high street. That baby was loud let me tell you. OK, perhaps I'm exaggerating. I do that. It was however a clearly audible, repetitive, whining squeak. Slow, like the lady.

Her trolley was just perfect. It's going to sound like a really clichéd trolley- two plastic wheels on a metal frame with a blue tartan, upright bag. That's how it was. She pulled it behind her.

What must it be like I thought, to walk about so slowly with this squeak in your ears. Unless she was deaf of course, which admittedly was a possibility.

I suppose the most authentic experiment conditions would have been to find my own squeaking trolley, but, you know. I decided to follow her along the high street and stay as close as possible.

First of all the pace was pretty tricky. I walk fast, and it felt uncomfortable to be moving so slowly. Especially as I was within touching distance of the old lady. Luckily there were shop windows just beside us so I could occasionally look into them, not forgetting of course, to concentrate on the squeak.

We plodded on and then she turned off into a side road. It was a quiet little street and suddenly our proximity seemed a bit strange. She seemed to become more aware of me because her head kept turning to the side a little. I got my mobile out and started fiddling around. There's just nothing like it for those tricky situations. While doing this I sensed her stop, turn around and look at me. I kept my head down and she eventually turned back again and carried on walking. I followed.

We walked a little further and then she caught me off guard. She turned around quickly and we came face to face. Not knowing what to do I decided to pull that chaplinesque move of just looking away like there's nothing happening. OK not really, that's a bit childish. It would have been great though wouldn't it.

I just said excuse me and walked around her. I'd had a good few minutes to feel the experience. Most interesting.

Train food

The other day I saw a fat guy eating on the train.

I love it when you see fat people eating. It just makes sense.

So anyway, there he was, sitting on one of the pull down seats. He was pretty fat. I mean, not massive, but just fat enough to squeeze into a pigeon hole labelled 'glutton'. Rather than, say, 'businessman on the move'. Saying that he didn't look out of place in this suburb.

There was his choice of food as well- Kebab and chips, in a flip-top carton.

The people around him seemed a bit pissed off by the pungent, fat and onions smell, which, lets be honest, can be pretty enticing at times.
The carriage was busy. I was standing up. The lady sitting next to him was definitely ticked off by the smell. The expression 'ticked off' came to mind there because of the way she kept sniffing and scrunching up the side of her face.

I felt like it was time for an adventure, and, I'll be honest, the fat and onions smell had sunk it's hooks into my stomach. I got off the train at the next stop and headed for a kebab shop. There's always a kebab place near the station so I knew it would be a doddle to find one. Sure enough, when I came out onto the street there was one right there.

Lamb Kebab, Chips and a can of Fanta. Cooked before my eyes and placed in a plastic bag, as fine as silk.

I got back on the train and found a good spot on a pull-down. Most of the other seats were taken. The fat and onions smell had already started to fill the carriage as I opened the bag. I pushed in the tab on the carton, the top flipped up, light as air, and the smell hit the other passangers square on the nose.

Now I had to decide on some conditions for this experiment. Namely, what kind of behaviour was appropriate.
Indignant: looking people flat in the face while loading strips of meat into my mouth.
Or apologetic: delicately picking out chips, humble-faced.
I go for the middle ground and attack the kebab while keeping eye contact to a minimum.

I hear some tutting over to my left. I keep chewing. When I look up I notice a few people looking at me. I take another bite and look back down to the ground. I notice a strip of onion stick to my shoe. Another bite. People get on at the next station and a guy stops near me. I can tell he's watching me. Strange how we can tell. I keep chewing.

I move on to the chips and start to get the heavy stomach. It's a nice but slightly guilty feeling. My throat feels a bit greasy so I crack open the Fanta to freshen up.

Yes, A most interesting experiment.

Desert Aisle

I tend to go to the supermarket in the afternoon. There are fewer people about bacause they're all working. I'm not. I like to look out for discounted items close to their sell-by-date. There's just nothing like a bargain, and besides, a dole check only goes so far. I'll be honest with you, occasionally I drop things into to pocket if there's nobody around. Every little helps.

A couple of weeks ago I was struck by a strange sight when I turned into the frozen food aisle. A girl was facing the large open freezers, quite close, with her eyes closed. She wasn't holding her hands out towards the freezer as you might expect, but kept her arms straight by her sides. Her trolley waited a few feet away in the middle of the aisle.

I paused for a few seconds, expecting her eyes to pop open, but she just carried on standing there. She looked about 40 and wore a business suit, although her long wavy hair wasn't quite neat enough to fit the look.

As I started to walk towards her she must have sensed me because she opened her eyes. She seemed a little startled, but actually, now I think of it, not really. She just turned back to her trolley and continued down the aisle.

-

This afternoon I was back at the same supermarket. It was pretty quiet. I was in the large freezer aisle again and though about the lady.

I walked over to the her spot and looked down into the freezer. It was full of lightly misted, multi-coloured packet-meals. I picked up a frozen lasagne and dropped it into my trolley. Then I looked around and seeing as there was nobody I decided to close my eyes for a few seconds. It felt strange at first and after a second or two I reopened them. I called myself a pussy and tried again.

Eyes closed. There was still a glow from the powerful overhead lights, giving me that strange kind of vision that is black and white at the same time. I became more aware of the piped-in music, also coming from high up in the ceiling. Typically banal classical music. Surely she wasn't listing to that. I tried to ignore it.

The feel of the cool air was there but not strong. It gave a false freshness to the aisle.

I kept my eyes closed for what seemed like ages. The background music started slowly fading behind the hum of the open freezer. It seemed to get louder and louder. It was deep and rich, with a slight bass vibration. Very nice.

It started to feel like several minutes, but I just stood there listening. The sound was changing. It began to resonate like a digeridoo. I no longer felt strange to be standing there. Then I heard someone coming so I opend my eyes and carried on up the aisle.

That was about it really, but it made me think. Maybe there were some interesting experiences to be had in this boring suburb. I mean, it really is boring, but you never know.