They were locked together in amorous congress: two shopping trolleys refusing to part. “Stand clear!” I warned small daughter, handing her my bag. I grabbed the trolley handles and tried using brutish force to wrench them apart.

“Having fun yet?” I heard a woman say.

I turned to fit a face to the familiar voice. She was a schoolmate from last century. I hadn’t seen her in years. “How are you?” I beamed.