Talking Car

This is what blogs - mine, at least - should be about: short sharp reports, not the endless blatherings I dump in here.

It is a dark and rainy night and no one wants to see me, too busy loving or shoving each other and my brand of vivacious company is past its sell-by date.

I go out to the DVD store in case Righteous Kill is available. All 5 copies are out and they have passed on Love Guru.

I decide to try the new Scondo supermarket just past Tzavros.

It is packed and I do not bother to find a place near the door.

I do a massive shop and go out to the Micra and load everything carefully into the boot/trunk.

It is dark but I do wonder about some of the objects scattered around, but then again Kostas often dumps stuff for the rubbish bins.

I talk to myself as I load them in, a habit I can't any more throw: "Gourmet cat food, lucky Koutsi ... sensible bread ... healthy fruit ... steaks that I will once again over cook ... etc etc

Finally it is all in and I muse aloud, "So, is that it? Because I'm not getting home and finding I've forgotten some crucial SNOOPS (stuff never out of permanent stock)

Pame! says a voice - Let's go!

For a split split split second I have the sort of thought that bypasses words and goes straight to the brain: Hello 'ullo, I *never* realised it was one of those cars that gauges the shopping list and tells you when it's all done and time to go home. Rather like that fridge of the future I read about that monitors SNOOPS and automatically places orders for anything running low.

From the front passenger seat a shape turns, a dumpy housewife type, and we lock gazes.

I have loaded the wrong car and this crone has sat there listening to me burble in English sans uttering a word.

I apologise and tell her 'lathos', error, and start removing the purchases in time for the owner to trundle his trolley over and give me a dark nod. I nod back and tell him, lathos. More nods as I go on unloading and move two cars down to my own wheels.