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You see all sorts looking out of my window at work. Okay, so most of the time, it's just traffic thundering down City Road, with the odd motorist sheepishly turning left into Colebrooke Row when they shouldn't (I really thing the big hump, narrowing of the road, and the fact that you have to drive the wrong way down a cycle lane ought to put most people off - but it doesn't, apparently). Occaisionally, though, you get a classic moment, and yesterday provided one in the shape of a regular passer-by, the Junk Collector.
The Junk Collector is an old-ish bloke (late 50s? difficult to tell, I've never been very near him to look) who pushes a big, flat, trolley loaded with assorted junk taken from building sites. Where he takes it, I don't know. What I do know is that he pushes this trolley very laboriously up the bus lane, stopping every twenty yards or so for a long breather. It looks like a tiresome, thankless task, and if I don't see him for a while, I keep wondering if he's dropped dead from exhaustion.
One of the hazards of pushing this trolley up a bus lane is, of course, buses. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem - they can pull out and pass him. There is a short stretch of the bus lane, though, that is constricted by a couple of traffic islands, and yesterday, the Junk Collector was in this section when a 205 approached him from behind. We held our collective breaths, waiting to see what would unfold.
There was no way he could push the trolley up onto the pavement - the kerb is raised. He'd already gone his statutory 20 yards, and was pretty much out of puff. The bus gained on him - and stopped just short. Slowly, he edged forward. Would he make it? Would the extra effort required to push the trolley just that little bit further than normal be the end of him? Could the bus really squeeze past him? For those few minutes, the world was on edge, there was nothing else happening. Then, finally, a gap appeared that you could drive a bus through - and the driver of the bus, realising this, drove a bus through it. Drama over.
As for the Junk Collector... well, for all I know, he makes a real mint out of doing what he does, and probably has a million quid in the bank, or something, which he'll end up leaving to the Home for Retired Junk Collectors when, finally, inevitably, his heart gives out pushing that trolley up City Road and he himself is taken by the Great Junk Collector in the sky.
The Junk Collector is an old-ish bloke (late 50s? difficult to tell, I've never been very near him to look) who pushes a big, flat, trolley loaded with assorted junk taken from building sites. Where he takes it, I don't know. What I do know is that he pushes this trolley very laboriously up the bus lane, stopping every twenty yards or so for a long breather. It looks like a tiresome, thankless task, and if I don't see him for a while, I keep wondering if he's dropped dead from exhaustion.
One of the hazards of pushing this trolley up a bus lane is, of course, buses. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem - they can pull out and pass him. There is a short stretch of the bus lane, though, that is constricted by a couple of traffic islands, and yesterday, the Junk Collector was in this section when a 205 approached him from behind. We held our collective breaths, waiting to see what would unfold.
There was no way he could push the trolley up onto the pavement - the kerb is raised. He'd already gone his statutory 20 yards, and was pretty much out of puff. The bus gained on him - and stopped just short. Slowly, he edged forward. Would he make it? Would the extra effort required to push the trolley just that little bit further than normal be the end of him? Could the bus really squeeze past him? For those few minutes, the world was on edge, there was nothing else happening. Then, finally, a gap appeared that you could drive a bus through - and the driver of the bus, realising this, drove a bus through it. Drama over.
As for the Junk Collector... well, for all I know, he makes a real mint out of doing what he does, and probably has a million quid in the bank, or something, which he'll end up leaving to the Home for Retired Junk Collectors when, finally, inevitably, his heart gives out pushing that trolley up City Road and he himself is taken by the Great Junk Collector in the sky.
