The Wheelbarrowby Geoffrey Wilkinson |
| We have reached and passed the age of retirement without ever owning a wheelbarrow. It's not that I have never wanted one, in fact on many occasions I would have given my high teeth, or Sheila's right arm, for one especially when there has been mounds of garden or building material to be moved from A to B. I have often admired them when passing a hardware store where they have been on display, lined up for inspection with their paint work gleaming, and looking even more attractive when on special. A few months ago we purchased a block of land, and are now in the final planning stages of building a house on it. During this time we have often discussed these plans with our friends Paul and Lesley, who would you believe own two wheelbarrows. Two car families are commonplace, but two wheelbarrows, it's unbelievable snobbery, if somewhat inverted. However I think this form of one-upmanship is starting to get to them, especially when their neighbours discuss the situation in whispers with a hand in front of mouth, and then change the subject when either Paul or Lesley appear. So guess what, they are giving one to us, knowing that we will have great need of one for the new house and garden project. The one they want us to have is in my opinion the better model of the two, it's the big one, the one with grunt, the one that Tim the tool man Taylor would be proud to own. If we were talking cars here, they would be giving us the stretch limo and keeping the mini. But I'm not about to tell them that am I. Some things are best left unsaid. Especially 'friends in need etc'. so mums the word. They are keeping it in their garage for us until we are ready, but meanwhile we have got visiting rights, so I often pop around on some excuse so that I can admire it's bulky lines. Yes it's definitely the heavy duty industrial model. I'm only guessing the payload but it has to be humungous. The inflatable tyre on the wheel is like the ones fitted to a Jumbo Jet, so I shall have to push it to the service station to blow it up, I dare say that will make people look twice and turn green with envy. While the chassis is made of sturdy steel, the handles are made from enough hard wood to turn the greenies green. I might get it in time for Sheila's birthday, with a coat of paint, and a piece of pink ribbon, it would be the ideal present for the woman who has everything. I shall have to fashion a harness that will attach to the handles, and pass over her shoulders in order to take some of the weight off her arms. Because with a full pay load she could finish up with arms like an orang-outang, and her knuckles dragging on the ground. It would be a shame to spoil such lovely hands. Come to think of it I might throw in a pair of gloves, we don't want her to get calluses either do we? I'm dying to see her reaction when she realises it's just for her, at the moment she's of the opinion that I'm going to use it. So it may need a bit of psychology in order to prepare her for the necessary mental adjustment, after all she may feel overwhelmed by the idea, especially with the amount of work there will be to do on a half acre block. But she's made of the right stuff, we both come from the Black Country, so are familiar with hard work. Unfortunately for me, my working days are over, and I've got a letter from my doctor to prove it. With a back like mine it would be silly to even think of using an industrial wheelbarrow. It will break my heart to sit on the veranda and watch as she struggles with loads of soil and rocks, mixing concrete in it for the paths and patio, and finally just pottering with trees, shrubs and flowers, but we all have to make sacrifices. It's just my luck that when we finally get to own a wheelbarrow, Sheila will be the only one to get any pleasure from using it, although I'm sure she'll find the words to thank me, she always was good with words. She knows some that aren't in the dictionary. Wheelbarrow is though. I've looked it up, I wonder who invented it, it might tell you on the internet. I'll get Sheila to check it out. |
| © 2003 Geoffrey Wilkinson |
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