It’s the little things

Every morning I walk down a particularly steep hill to work. This morning as I was approaching the steepest point, absorbed in thoughts of the day ahead, the usual sound of birdsong and distant traffic was interrupted by a strange clattering noise and a thud from behind me.

Frowning, my eyes shifted rapidly from side to side as my brain, still playing catchup, tried to identify the sound. I turned my head, expecting perhaps one of the many school kids who often overtake me to be approaching from the rear.

Instead, my gaze was quickly drawn to the road and the sight of my lunchbox lying behind me. The front flap of my bag had dropped open and my lunch had been unleashed. More worryingly, the tin of vegetable soup I had packed for the day was accelerating past me downhill at an impressive rate.

My face quickly assumed a mildly frightened look and, eyebrows raised, I struggled to grasp the situation. My lunch was now well ahead of me, hurtling towards the busy road junction at the foot of the hill.

Instinctively I broke into a sprint. Shocked at the velocity of the soup can I found myself running at full tilt down one of the steepest hills in Yorkshire.

Desperately increasing my pace, my coat and bag flailing wildly behind me I gained on the escaping tin. Panic began to set in as I judged how much hill I had left.

Several car drivers at the foot of the hill, patiently waiting to turn left had become distracted by the spectacle. I considered what they might be thinking. Was that lunatic pedestrian bolting dangerously down that hill late for work or just very keen?

In a final act of calculated desperation I lashed out with my foot and booted the tin into the side of the road.

I overshot but eventually managed to skid to a halt only yards from the main road. Passing commuters glared with that look of annoyance people have when they see something they don’t understand.

Turning I then marched decisively back up the hill and retrieved my now dented tin and discarded lunchbox. I stuffed them both in my bag and resumed my walk to work. Unable to contain my amusement and, like a final treat for the many passers by, I found myself laughing out loud alone.

I sometimes wonder what people must think of me, although I must confess I don’t really care!