Frantic Activity and Fury

Today I put in a burst of activity as the last time before the Chemo kicks in and I feel furious ambitions to sleep. First I paid the customary visit to the Flea Market, here seen from the far end from which, for reasons unknown, I never normally take a picture:

Then on to the Chinese Shop. Some of the combined loot is shown here:

There was an amusing, if infuriating at the time, incident at the mini-mall where the Chinese shop is situated. Coming from the Flea Market, the nearest entry was at the opposite end. I looked for any trace of a ‘No Entry’ or ‘One Way’. None. Reassured, I started driving in. I was promptly blocked by an individual in a wheelchair, at whom I hooted furiously. By now, my car’s rear end was obstructing traffic. Then another individual came to the window and said this was a no entry. My requests to let me in anyway, out of consideration to the other motorists, fell on deaf ears and he stopped the traffic in the road itself so that I could reverse and pull out.

Then came the fury-maker. This whipper-snapper said, ‘You too old to drive.’

Seeing lots of red, I extricated the car and went to the entrance on the other side. Then I found parking and started walking purposefully in the direction of the ‘Exit’. Once there, I checked again for any sort of signage or lines prohibiting entrance. None. Then I asked a new guard at the gate where my wheelchair friend and his partner in insult were.

The response cracked me up.

‘They see you come. They run away.’

Oh, by the way. The Enid Blyton book I had been seeking at the Library, leaving strict instructions to notify me if it surfaced, was found in its proper place by a proactive Rhiannon today. She grabbed it, and I read the first two chapters to a highly appreciative audience this afternoon.

© December 2019 Colonialist