Abandoned in a ditch, a shopping trolley sits face down in the mud. Slumped over like a drunk bloke that’s taken a tumble. Smothered in dirt and barely recognisable, I wonder which supermarket it has escaped from. Tesco? I don’t think so, they use silver and blue designs. Neither is it Sainsbury’s orange or ASDA’s green. It has a black, criss-crossed nest on top of four silvery legs that have swivelling wheels as feet. No sign of any distinguishable colours. I touch the trolley’s handle and it is warm. The dark, gloomy plastic has absorbed many sunbeams today. I look at a clear plastic contraption attached to the handles - intended to hold paper adverts for whichever supermarket this belongs to. Still no sign of any ownership. I remove my hands from the mysterious discovery and take another look around.
An elderly couple stagger past – struggling to walk along the rocky, dirty path. I say hello and wave tentatively. They smile and greet me back.
“Crazy the things people leave laying around.” I joke to them.
“Yes, people seem to not care these days.” The man – dressed in khaki shorts, walking boots and a blue polo shirt – remarks back. He chuckles a little and they smile at each other before continuing their stroll.
There’s a lime green plastic bag trapped in the bushes that surround the trolley. Another escapee? Did trolley and bag break out together from the commercial prison they were in? There are a few real prisons nearby to this area – Bullingdon for example. Or were they used as slave labour by whichever supermarket owned them? Whilst the wind blows a rustling sound hits my ears. The bag is fluttering in the breeze, showing more life than the trolley.