Sometimes things go South Ealing

Ms C of South Ealing, for whom I've been gardening a few times in the summer, had disappeared for seven months. Today I learned she had been discharged from a hospital. Still feeling pain, she struggled to move her feet. Her condition worsened over the last months, and she was not able to shop for herself anymore.

Ms C asked me whether I have a car or going to take a bus to go to Morrisons. I said it is not the way of GoodGym. Ms C gave me the money and shopping list but didn't provide me with carrier bags. That was the turning point of the entire mission. I had other plans down South afterwards and decided not to take my big backpack and sturdy shopping bags for the run. Ms C offered me a trolley but it would have slowed me down on the way to the supermarket, so I hadn't taken it.

I set off to a town which was even more South than South Ealing. Brentford. Everything was going fine until I hit M4.

Roadworks.

I chose a way around to avoid running across a busy motorway in a random place. Sometimes I am sensible. That made the route to Morrisons longer. The supermarket was unfamiliar, I went there earlier just once, for the Hounslow foodbank donation mission. It had been easy to shop for pasta and cans of baked beans back then. This time, apart from the Encona chilli sauce, grapes and hygienic products, I had no idea where to find the rest of the shopping list because Ms C had a very different taste in food and drink than me.

After walking around the supermarket twice to find a member of staff who confirmed there was no Encona sauce and tea cakes (I still haven't learned what they are), I headed to the tills. I was happy not to be ID checked and a bit less happy about going over budget. I put the heaviest things in my small backpack and the rest in two paper bags I had to buy. They were supposed to be reusable. Very funny.

The handles in both bags tore before I left Morrisons car park.

I used a variety of awkward grips and holds to carry the bags back to South Ealing. I took the back roads, so not many passersby had a chance to see my predicament. When I came back, Ms C said that next time she wouldn't request heavy items. I didn't object to that. You cannot expect that Morrisons' "reusable" paper bags would be as strong as GoodGymers.

On a very positive note, apart from Ms C's shopping being taken care of, I came back home with a bounty. I swapped my tenner for ten £1 coins Ms C gave me. Now I can wash my GoodGym t-shirts. That made my day!