The Vacuum Cleaner

In a complete head-spin yesterday (think Bridget Jones post-breakup), I decided it was either chocolate and big socks in front of a movie or... going to Bluewater to pick up my new vacuum cleaner. A no-brainer of a choice really.

So I parked up at Bluewater and diligently took note of the number and letter of my bay "G2"... excellent. There was a Cinema over there to the left and a firm knowledge that "I’ll definitely remember this" as I headed for John Lewis.

The vacuum cleaner and a car charger for my crap-batteried phone was all I needed.

As I heaved the vacuum cleaner out of John Lewis, I realised that I should probably get it into my car before I broke my back. Impossibly heavy and all packed up in a ridiculous yellow santa-like sack without enough gathered bag at the top to hold onto. Arse. I got back out to the carpark. And it didn’t look familiar. I asked a man passing, "But where’s the Cinema? It’s meant to be there... (pointing)." And he went on to tell me, with a slight smirk, that the Cinema was on the other side of Bluewater altogether. He’d still got his hands-free earpiece stuck behind his ear and it annoyed me. I slumped down onto my vacuum cleaner and wallowed for a moment. Slight flailing arms and loud huffs, that kind of thing. From behind me came a voice of concern, asking if I was okay and could he help me.

And from my Miele-cat-and-dog-Turbo-5000 I told him I was having a terrible day and that now I couldn’t even find my car because the Cinema had moved... in fact, I reeled off my whole sorry story without taking a breath. And in reply he said, "Well, we’ll go to every carpark until we find your car." And so we did... taking in refreshments at Costa, before criss-crossing Bluewater like a cat's cradle until it looked like the right carpark containing "G2". And there was my T-cut Toyota.

Beautiful kindness. I shall never forget Mr Vacuum Cleaner Man!