A Chipper Toastboy.

What’s this? a chipper Toastboy breathing in the fresh morning air and striding towards the car with gusto? Where’s the usually glum Toast who looks like he’s about to say “bah”? This was unnerving.
The Travelon 2000 backpack sat upon Plum Tomatoes doorstep. It was a signal that he was indeed coming to the boot but may take a while getting to the door what with his crocked foot and all. He eventually appeared, hobbling and doing his best not to be grouchy. We gingerly squashed him into the back of the car.
Toastboy held court all the way to the boot. We were apparently lucky to live in a country like Scotland….We had fresh water aplenty (this part was punctuated with an impression of someone filling beakers with water and sloshing them about willy nilly). His positive attitude was so out of character that I took my attention away from the road and physically turned to look at him… “who ARE you?”

The boot was rubbish, which seems to be the norm these days. Canny_Underscore_Jack was leafing through a box of records. Not satisfied with stealing my business he is now encroaching upon my hobbies. Mix Master Canny Underscore Jack. As he was crouched over the box I noticed that he was in the perfect position for receiving a kick in the head. I took a couple of steps back, tapped my toe against the ground and sprinted forward. Jack was pulling out a copy of The Sound of Music (it is in EVERY box of records at carboots and charities). He didn’t see me coming. My size 10 caught his chin and blattered his head into the table. Ornaments went flying. A cheap Scottie dog shattered into a thousand pieces….”you’ll have to pay for that!” snapped the angry, man-faced woman stall holder.

When the carboot is this bad I like to amuse myself by engaging stallholder Jake in conversation.
“How’s it going?”
“Terrible, I haven’t sold a thing”
“It’s slow today”
“I did sell that lot for thirty quid to a mug with crutches”
He nodded his head indicating a toy WWF wrestling ring and a couple of carrier bags.

The guy who thinks he’s Del Boy but has really rubbish banter managed to ensnare me: “Blanks cd’s?” “No thanks”. “A mouse?” “I’ve got one”. “Here’s something I bet you don’t have”. Darn, he had me, he rummaged about in the boot of his car. What could it possibly be? He slowly appeared with a small rectangular white cardboard box. This was exciting. He eased it open, building up the sense of expectation. I held my breath. Slowly, slowly, slowly he revealed ……sugar tongs.

I had had enough and made my way back to the car. On my way I spotted Plum Tomato furtively checking out a long thin cardboard box under a table. When I arrived to see what he was up to the transaction was already taking place and he picked up a box of envelopes. Does this signal an end for email?

Tesco. Breakfast queue. “beans on two slices of brown toast please”, “there’s no toast”. I was outraged, “that’s rubbish!” was the only thing that I could think to say. The beans on toast were for Mr Plum Tomato and I was fancying scrambled egg on toast. This put a cat amongst the pigeons and no mistake. I made an executive decision and went for two Traditional Scottish Breakfasts, a new breakfast on the menu. There was no Lorne sausage so we got link sausage (which was better), there was supposed to be a choice between toast and fried bread but we had to make do with fried bread. I stopped the young man from placing a horrid plum tomato on to the plate. I asked for something else in it’s place, which is only traditional. However I was met with a “It’s a set menu”. Unbelievable! I tackled the lady at the checkout who I am sure was some kind of manager. She also came out with the set menu spiel. Bah! After all that I can report that the breakfast was jolly enjoyable. Tomato agreed with me. Toastboy looked upon us with pity and shook his head. “You obviously haven’t had a Morrisons breakfast”. The magical, mythical Morrisons breakfast has been so hyped it can surly only be a disappointment. I am never going to have one.

PC World. Tomato was sweating and looking furtive. He was thinking about spending money on a piece of hardware. His plans were thrown into disarray as a similar model to the one he had his eye on was also on offer. He spent some time looking and worrying. Toast and I retreated to a safe distance and watched as he made his way to the till. Has he got a box? … I don’t think so…. I bet he’s haggling. Surprisingly soon he was striding towards us with a carrier bag, broken leg forgotten. He looked like the cat that had got the cream. Ooooh you got it! I said. Let’s get outta here he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Did you get a good deal? I asked. “You bet I did but let’s get out of here!” he hissed!. He ushered us quickly out of the door. As I passed through I feared the alarm might go off or the security guard might shout “Hey youz!”. We reached the car safely. Tomato had questioned the manager about the items and had obviously worn the poor woman down so much that she went online and booked the item for him to pick up at the store (it’s cheaper online). He also had vouchers for Woolworths dated 1965. She gladly accepted these to get rid of the master haggler.

Dropping Tomato off Toast asked if he was going to rush in and set the new computer item up. He said that he saw the day when he would do that but now he would wait until evening and do it at his leisure. A later phone call revealed that it was plugged in and working by the time I pulled out of the drive.