Occasionally, I set myself a challenge. Sometimes, it involves stopping crime or challenging injustices in the higher echelons of society. Other times, I aim to shift the balance of governmental power or find a new stable element and call it Dangermousium.
I rarely succeed in these, and am coming to the reluctant conclusion that I am setting the bar a tad on the high side. Even now, my self-imposed deadline for publishing a set of equations unifying gravity with current quantum theory is threatening to pass uncompleted because I can't find the plus button on my keyboard.
So, every now and then, I take things down a notch or two. One of those now-and-thens was a recent trip to the local supermarket, which is actually no bigger than most markets, and is essentially a big shop, so why it's called a supermarket I don't know. Moderatemarket would be more apt, I think. Anyway, I decided to take three photos on my phone which I would then put on this blog, be they funny, boring or just odd.
I walked in a picked a basket, which had a note in it. This in itself is not uncommon. People often leave their used shopping lists in the basket because they can't be arsed to take it out, and I'm one fo those interminable nosey sorts who will look at it, amazed that someone actually buys pink wafers and blue pop. I don't use shopping lists because I trust my memory, and anyway I quite enjoy the inevitable repeat trip for bread and milk 40 minutes later. Gets me out of the house.
This note though, wasn't a list, but an instruction:
It says "Lock Shed!", and even has a picture of a lock on it, to reiterate it's main thrust. I took a photo (obviously) as it's one of those things that raises lots of pointless questions, all of which serve no purpose whatsoever. Who left it? Don't they normally lock their shed? Why take the note to the supermarket, which is probably not where the shed is? Does the fast underlining mean that it's particularly important that the shed is locked today?Why? Is there a prisoner in it? Should I call the police and demand they start an investigation, perhaps using forensics and profiling and phones that go biddly-oop-oop and get answered after just one ring?
You know, the usual stuff.
After the nice lady asked me not to call 999 again, unless there was a real emergency, I continued with my shopping trip. Sadly, there was very little else that caught my eye in the Normalmarket, and I didn't fancy posting a picture of a dented tin, because that would be silly.
Also, I didn't see a dented tin.
So I bought a butty and went to the nearby churchyard to scoff it. Unfortunately, as I went to sit on a bench, I noted with disgust that there was poo on it:
I moved away and found another seat, and looked around for some picturey inspiration, but all I could find was a cruelly enclosed tree:
This did make me wonder what the point of the cage was, as it's too big to stop rabbits and squirrels, and there aren't any livestock in that area. It also doesn't stop local teens from using it as a cider-can-and-condom disposal unit, so I'm left with the only conclusion that the cage is to protect us from the tree, which is a terrifying thought.
So there you go. One set of random photos from a quick jaunt out. They're not big, and they're not clever, which suits me down to the ground.
Hey, there it is! It was right above the equals all the time!