Finally

It’s been two months now since my last mystery shop. I remember that day as if it was but yesterday. The crisp bite of early February air, off the back of a freezing winter, tormenting my lungs as I jogged out of Huddersfield.

Today I got back on the road, with a shop to York. This morning I had come to the conclusion that the most exciting thing that was going to happen to me today was seeing if the red team in ‘To Buy or not to Buy’ would make a steady profit at today’s auction. Imagine my sheer distress and utmost anger when my boss rang up, asking if I could do a mystery shop instead.

So, how to get to York… Well, I had the car for once, so printed off a map and got into third gear (mental, I know!). I encountered my first problem however at the bottom of the road, with a queue of cars stretching up into Honley village reminding me I was about to set off on a 100-mile-round trip… in rush hour. They said on the radio that ‘rush hour’ doesn’t really exist any more. I’d have to agree; no one can move fast enough to ‘rush’, and the whole thing takes longer than an hour. My journey was to take five.

Anyway, I eventually broke into some vague momentum and managed to get up to 30mph in Dewsbury! I was getting bored however, and so, realising there was a fast-looking car in my rear mirror, decided to amuse myself a bit. The road was long, with a huge queue of cars. We weren’t going anywhere soon, and yet this car (I think it was a Jag) was trying to overtake me. I can’t remember the number plate, but am sure it read something like: PR1CK.

So, what to do with an impatient tosser behind you, with nowhere to go, and nothing to do but go 30mph? Well, slow down of course. I didn’t act quickly, but ever so slowly reduced my speed, to about 25mph, to see if he’d notice. He did, and I could tell he did. So, I went down to 23mph, making sure to let any car from adjoining roads in front of me whenever I could. The guy did not seem happy, but, as he angrily sped away at a junction further down, I decided I didn’t care. I’d happily pissed off a rich angry bloke. Adopting the phrase ‘time is money’, looking at his car, suggests he has too much spare money, and therefore too much spare time. So why does he need such a fast car?

Anyway, I got past Leeds and was heading to York when possibly one of the greatest spectacles ever seen on the roadside introduced itself to me. It was on old bloke on one of those mobility scooters you get along with your bus pass, pension and stair lift when you reach 65. The guy was bombing along the pavement, but what was special was that his wife was sat behind. I thought giving your mate a backie died out when you were about 14? It was funny though: to see this old woman clutching on to her husband as he traversed unruly potholes and meandered round pedestrians, a walking stick tucked under her right arm. They looked like they were having fun at any rate.

The shop in York took no time at all, and so off I went back home. On the way back I thought I’d stop off in Leeds to check the house; you know, to make sure it was still standing. Thankfully it was, and, after picking up some stuff I naturally forgot to take home with me for the Easter break, I jumped back into the car to head for Honley.

I was happy with the day’s exploits. The drive back past Hyde Park however, filled me with slight remorse. You see, in the spring, for about two weeks, flowers emerge all over the park, giving the place a more vibrant colour scheme than the graffiti on a skate park. It signifies the coming of summer and the pissing off of winter. Sadly, this Dulux delight only lasts about a fortnight, for, as I drove past, I noticed the daffodils and weeds have already begun to take over. They’re nice, but just not as strikingly beautiful. Wordsworth had it all wrong…