Well, you'd've thought a wheelbarrow was a pretty simple piece of kit, wouldn't you?
But there is more to it than you would think, as I found out over the years.
It all started many years ago, with a new Client, who had a large garden but no wheelbarrow. "Oh," I said when I interviewed them, and this fact came to light, "well, I will need a wheelbarrow in this garden."
"No problem," they replied, "we'll get one, and have it ready before you start."
On arrival the following week, I was greeted with one of these little monsters:
Clearly designed by an idiot - probably male - who had never attempted to use it.
Firstly, let's look at those tiny little wheels. Rather like a suitcase. It rolls moderately well across tarmac, although with a tendency - like a suitcase - to wobble from side to side, eventually falling over.
Maybe it will be better once it has some weight in it, I thought. So I did some weeding, filled it up in no time at all (not as big as it looks ha! ha!) and tried to trundle it round to the compost heap.
Well, it didn't wobble - but it didn't want to roll, either! Any amount of weight in it, and the tiny wheels sink into the grass and won't roll.
Finally, when I managed to drag it to the compost heap, there was the issue of emptying it. How the heck are you supposed to empty it? I tried tipping it over on its nose, and the back panel neatly caught the bulk of the weeds, tipping them back in when I uprighted it. I tried tipping it over sideways, which was as ungainly as an ungainly thing, and found that only half the contents would spill out (all over the place, I should add). To get them all out, I had to completely upend it, and stand it upside down. Phew, what hard work!
And as for getting the contents into a compost pen with a 3' high front - no chance!
The only other answer was to bale it out from above - and what a waste of time and effort that is! It turned out to be deeper than it looks, so I could only just reach the bottom of the bucket part, and in doing so I got wet and muddy all up my arms, and I also bumped my head on the back panel a couple of times.
Other Remarks: Waste Of Time. And Money.
Then there was the Rusty Old Tin Barrow:
It's rusty (health hazard: if I catch myself on any sharp edge and break the skin I'll be rushing off for a tetanus injection), it's flimsy, it has holes in it so it leaves a trail of bits wherever I go: it's badly balanced, it's too small to get much in, it makes a hideous noise at every step, and the handles are so short that I bang my knees on it when trying to walk.
Worst of all, there is no bar around the front wheel, so you can't tip it up to empty it: if you try, you find that it's the wheel that is contacting the ground, and being a wheel, it tends to turn, so it either runs away from you (annoying) or runs towards you so you fall face forwards over it (embarrassing).
The owner of this thing, unable to take a hint, did not have a Professional Gardener for long.
Other Remarks: An Insult
Then we have the Large Builders' Barrow:
They are also rather on the heavy side. But at least they tip up nicely, so you can slide the contents out onto the waste heap with ease.
This sort should be stored preferably under cover, or at the very least, tipped up on its tipping bar so the tray (the body) stays dry.
Other Remarks: Sturdy, durable, especially if stored properly.
Talking of "large" barrows, don't ever buy your gardener a gigantic barrow unless a) they ask for it or b) they are a big hefty bloke.
Alas, it was so huge that I could only fill it a third full, otherwise I couldn't lift it.
Tipping it out was almost impossible (you can now buy big ones like this with a tipping mechanism, so clearly I was not the only gardener to struggle with it!), and it was so big that it was difficult to manoeuvre it without casually squashing plants as I passed. Not good!
Other Remarks: Yes, Size Is Important. But Too Big Is Not Good.
Oh, I mustn't forget the groovy folding barrow:
Newsflash: yes, I'm a girl, but I'm a big strong girl *flexes arms to show off muscles* and this sort of barrow is not worth the (exorbitant) cost.
They are flimsy, badly designed, hard to wheel - there is a reason that the other word for "folding" is "collapsible" - small in capacity, and hopeless for tipping out.
And of course, in no time at all the fabric has ripped, rendering them completely useless.
Other Remarks: Flimsy, and Annoying to Use.
Now there is a new kid in town: The Puncture-Proof Self-Assembly Barrow.
This barrow is guaranteed to never, ever get a puncture.
Because the wheel is solid.
This means that it does not roll easily
and smoothly, it jerks and jolts over every tiny bump, and it does not
"ride" up a kerb or a step in the way that a pneumatic wheel does. But,
it should never, ever get a puncture, so we have to open our arms to it.
And it arrived in a box, from the internet, requiring just some very
simple home assembly, which Mr Client did himself. Mrs Client then
quietly asked me to check that nothing was on back to front or inside
out, which made me laugh - but it was fine, all was well.
here's a picture of my foot as I am walking with it, pushing it and
walking normally. Note how narrow it is - my feet just brush against the
legs as I walk, almost tripping me up, which is very annoying. Chalk up one "Bad
Design" mark. But, the handles are good and long, so I just hold it out
in front of me: give it one "Good Design" mark to make up for it!
Other Remarks: Slightly hard going, but at least we'll never be unable to use it due to a puncture!
So after all those horrible barrows, what do I recommend?
Plastic bodied, Fort barrows. Not cheap, £50-£60 or so, but the bodies are a good size, the plastic ones don't rust, are light to use, and don't deafen you every time you touch them.
Here is what you might call the Ideal Client: two Fort barrows!!
As mentioned earlier, nothing in life is quite perfect and the dear old one, the purple one, has received damage to a handle at some point in the far past, so there is a good thick layer of insulating tape round the handle. ( I wonder who did that? No, no idea...)
And the green one, the new one, well, the plastic hand grips which it came with (still in place in this photo) did not stay on the handles. What twit designed them, I wonder? What possible point is there in designing a hand that slips off the tube every time you use it? Do the designers never actually try using these things? Empty, it's fine, but as soon as you have any weight in it the handles get weirdly longer until squip! off comes the plastic grip. And as for going up steps with it - hopeless!! In the end we removed the handles completely, and I expect that come winter, we'll be wrapping the metal tubes with insulating tape to make them less cold to handle.
But despite this, Fort are still far and away my favourite barrow. 10/10, obviously.
So there you have it: if you want someone to come and work in your garden, don't waste time and money on gadgets, or on fancy, trendy items, get yourself a plain, old-fashioned, preferably plastic-bodied, decent Fort wheelbarrow!