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.