Personal shopper? Land-based lard lugger? Mobile munchie mover?
No matter. I have two actually, and if hassled, Sapphire will bring the other one along. She loathes my brown with pink flower cart pictured here, preferring the other with its much more traditional (and nanna-ish, to be blunt) royal blue canvas body and tartan cover flap.
Not having a car for four months but a family and dog to feed meant that the nanna cart was a necessity. Trendier (and wealthier) types get spotty ones from IKEA or retro funky jobs from over-priced gift shops but these Migro models have tyres that an upmarket pram would yearn for and a turning circle tighter than a school kids' compass. I was keen to not embrace the Genevan standard of doing a small shop every single day and instead reduce my need to visit the cheerfully chuckling check-out chicks of Migros as few times a week as nanna-cart-owningly possible.
Mine has been able to hold a dozen bottles of wine and two dozen cans of diet coke as well as a big baguette and a triple pack of Snickers bars in one sitting with a cos lettuce, a sack of dry dog crunchies, a kilo of budget macaroni and six pack of chopped tomato tins to seal the deal. The clinking sound of the wine bottles protesting at being at the very bottom of the load as the cart rolls back home behind me isn't the most elegant way of indicating the priorities in my life but at least my arms aren't dragging on the ground from the strain of having to carry it all.
Even now that we have a car, the nanna carts are still essential. I wheel them down to the underground car park and leave them there until I return with a boot full of food. And booze. Okay and chocolate. Then load 'em up so that I only have to make one trip through the three secure doors, lift and our front door with a double lock on it.
If utterly bored and certain that dinner is more than a mere nudge of my butt and five minutes away, Milly will sniff them to ascertain what tasty delights might have been contained in them earlier. The day I bought Gruyere, blue cheese, salmon and hackfleish mince was her favourite. Laundry liquid, loo cleaner and scented bog rolls results in a look of How Could You disappointment and a slow waddle back to the sunny spot on the carpet.
No matter. I have two actually, and if hassled, Sapphire will bring the other one along. She loathes my brown with pink flower cart pictured here, preferring the other with its much more traditional (and nanna-ish, to be blunt) royal blue canvas body and tartan cover flap.
Not having a car for four months but a family and dog to feed meant that the nanna cart was a necessity. Trendier (and wealthier) types get spotty ones from IKEA or retro funky jobs from over-priced gift shops but these Migro models have tyres that an upmarket pram would yearn for and a turning circle tighter than a school kids' compass. I was keen to not embrace the Genevan standard of doing a small shop every single day and instead reduce my need to visit the cheerfully chuckling check-out chicks of Migros as few times a week as nanna-cart-owningly possible.
Mine has been able to hold a dozen bottles of wine and two dozen cans of diet coke as well as a big baguette and a triple pack of Snickers bars in one sitting with a cos lettuce, a sack of dry dog crunchies, a kilo of budget macaroni and six pack of chopped tomato tins to seal the deal. The clinking sound of the wine bottles protesting at being at the very bottom of the load as the cart rolls back home behind me isn't the most elegant way of indicating the priorities in my life but at least my arms aren't dragging on the ground from the strain of having to carry it all.
Even now that we have a car, the nanna carts are still essential. I wheel them down to the underground car park and leave them there until I return with a boot full of food. And booze. Okay and chocolate. Then load 'em up so that I only have to make one trip through the three secure doors, lift and our front door with a double lock on it.
If utterly bored and certain that dinner is more than a mere nudge of my butt and five minutes away, Milly will sniff them to ascertain what tasty delights might have been contained in them earlier. The day I bought Gruyere, blue cheese, salmon and hackfleish mince was her favourite. Laundry liquid, loo cleaner and scented bog rolls results in a look of How Could You disappointment and a slow waddle back to the sunny spot on the carpet.
8 comments:
As someone who is in imminent danger of orangutan arms, they strike me as a great idea. That I haven't yet been able to bring myself to. Sigh.
Do it, Elephant's Child, do it. They really are easy to use, carry heaps and make the schlepping of groceries much more pleasant.
A lot of people use them here - uni students, parents, oldies, so you don't have to be called Dulcie and have a daily battle with denture cream to own one.
I call mine the granny trolley. I've seen them advertised as personal shoppers, but as far as I'm concerned a personal shopper is someone who calls in to your home, gets the list and the cash, then goes and does the shopping for you.
My granny trolley has big pram wheels too. After I went smacking to the ground for the second time when the original tiny ones caught in a pavement crack, L scoured the hard rubbish dumps for old prams and put the wheels on the trolley for me. I no longer get up close and personal with the concrete.
@EC; yes, do it. They're environmentally friendly and lots of young people are using them over here. I've been using one in various forms since the 70's.
I agree River that 'personal shopper' means a fashionista for those who are wealthy and clueless. I love my humble little cart.
I call ours a shopping jeep. While the intention was to walk to the shops and load the jeep, it has become the shopping transport from the car park to the Highrise. Casks sit neatly at the bottom, with bottles beside and progressively lighter stuff on top.
I know a few Melbournians who call them 'jeeps' Andrew, but that always brings to mind the army cars that Hawkeye et al would drive in MASH.
I've had a nanna cart since I was in my early 20s. Essential for shopping at the central markets. (I actually bought it at one of the little stores there when I realised I couldn't carry that much fresh fruit & veg without dislocating an arm.)
I see them for sale here but have never seen one single person wheeling one around. I prefer a backpack when walking the 1km to the shops. Easier to keep hands free for toddler.
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