The View from Parson Street Nose

It was another gloriously sunny morning in Bedminster as I joined the end of the raggle-taggle bunch making up the Cannon Street Post Office queue.

After a brief encounter with someone who seemed not to know what a picture stamp was I hastened on my way to the Butt the butchers.

There was a sudden whoosh and, quick as you like, out of the amusement arcade shot an elderly lady dragging a tartan shopping trolley behind her, it cornered on one wheel promptly ripping the flower from one of my flip-flops.

I yelped in dismay and watched agog as she zig-zagged her way down East Street scattering pedestrians in her path. I wondered if she had won the jackpot on the slots and was off to squander it in Reeves the jeweller or had she just perpetrated a 'smash 'n' grab' raid on the cash booth inside and her trolley was full of plunder?

I popped into the chemists on my way home from East Street and was served by a dizzy dolly with nails like surfboards.

She was finding it tricky trying to use the machine with her two inch talons and managed to get my card stuck in the slot.

She ham-fistedly tried to free it then exclaimed: "Oh dear, your card seems to be broken, it’s got a great big crack going right through the gold bit. Do you want me to Sellotape it up for you?"

Good grief, after destroying the integral micro technology of my chip, did she really think sticky tape would help?