The local shop

There is a shop in the village.

Well, of course there is otherwise it wouldn't be a proper village.  In fact there a quite a few shops.

This shop though is where I collect the Sunday paper.  I don't bother with papers myself, but Herself likes to read it so who am I to argue?  It has a couple of Suduku puzzles in it which are handy for sending me to sleep so I do get some benefit.  Anyhows, it's a fine time to stock up on baccy, so every Sunday I nip down and buy my stash.

Being the country, when I open the door to the shop he already has my usuals ready and waiting.  A few weeks ago though, after I paid, he slipped a couple of chocolate bars into the newspaper.  I raised my eyebrows and he shrugged his gesture off – you're a great customer, says he.

The following couple of week he did the same – a couple of chocolate bars. 

But then he upped his game a bit.  He started giving me a couple of large Toblerone bars.

One week we had a break from chocolate and I got a tray of mushrooms and a bag of carrots.  He suggested I make a stew.

This whole business was getting a bit embarrassing at this stage as he wouldn't let me leave the shop until I had received my gift.  If there were other customers, I would be ordered in no uncertain terms to stay where I was until he had dealt with the others.  I daren't argue with him as he is a little bloke, and as we all know little blokes are like little dogs who can give a nasty nip to the ankles.

A couple of weeks ago we moved from edibles to hardware.  As I was about to make a run for the door he slapped a mug onto the counter.  It was one of those Thermos type insulated mugs with a lid, for keeping your drink hot [or cold].  Very handy.

The following week he barked at me to stay while he went into the back of the shop.  This time it was a thermal zip-up bag for keeping my food warm [or cold].

It looks like rain today, so I trotted down earlier than usual.  Sure enough, there was my paper on the counter with my stash on it.  I paid and tried to do a runner.  No chance.  He threw a Toblerone bar at me and ordered me to stay while he went out to his car to fetch something.  I didn't dare move.  I am now the proud owner of one of those large torches with a handle, which is a very handy thing to have in the countryside.

I am getting very nervous at this stage.  If he keeps upping his game then I just don't know what's coming next.  I'm beginning to wonder when I am going to have to bring a trailer to carry my booty.  And for the life of me I can't work out his motives.  Herself suggested that he's trying to get rid of unwanted stock which I thought was a bit cynical, but nothing has ever been past its sell-by date.  I'm worried that he might fancy me.  Or he might fancy the dog [he likes to pass admiring comments about Penny].

One thing I will say though – it makes my Sunday trip to the shop damned interesting.

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Comments

The local shop — 15 Comments

    • Maybe he has?  One of the strange things about him is that I know nothing about him.  I have never seen him around outside the shop.  I have no idea where he lives.  If you lived in a small country village you'd know just how strange that is.

  1. Sounds to me like he's building up to asking you a HUGE favour, which you will find difficult to refuse what with being indebted to him by his generosity an' all.

    Looks like you have no choice but to move to the other end of Ireland before the hammer falls.

    I'd start making the arrangements tomorrow, if I were you, GD. Can't be too careful, you know…

  2. This sounds funny as hell i am worried for you i think that nisakiman is right he could be indebted you to him so he could ask you to do some thing for him good luck granddad

    • I have been looking through the list of items he has given me, and I think I may have found a common link.  I have a feeling he may want me to go on a camping trip in the Swiss Alps and do all the cooking?

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