I've dithered for months. No, years. Every Thursday, I set off to Devizes market, and come back laden with very heavy stuff; stuff I need, and, sadly, stuff I don't need (a huge bowl of lemons for £1? How can you resist?). But so far I have refused to buy a shopping trolley.
Shopping trolleys are for the old, the decrepit, those who can't carry all their stuff. In other words, shopping trolleys are for me. But I am in denial. I can carry my stuff; of course I can. And if it means putting seven heavy bags down in a puddle in order to pay for the eighth, well, that's ok, isn't it?
No. It's not. My arms are still aching from this morning's little jaunt, and the veg rack (Aliya, please note) is groaning under the weight of, among other things, onions as big as my head, which are far too big to be useful, and there are enough sprouts in the fridge to feed a small army. But rather than cut down on the shopping - I can't resist a bargain* - I am finally going to buy a shopping trolley. I actually went into a shop and looked at some this morning. They were hideous. And while I told myself that shopping trolleys aren't fashion accessories - they aren't in the same category as, say, handbags (I don't really do handbags, but that's another story) - I shall be getting one. Because it's the sensible thing to do.
But not yet.
*Someone once said that a bargain isn't a bargain unless it's something you want/need. Very wise, but hard to live up to.