Four beautifully spoken young men of maybe 18 to 21 years of age were shopping in my favourite Charity Shop of all time on Monday. Brittany is dotted with vast emporiums with a diverse number of areas for furniture, bric-a-brac, window frames, toys, and……..clothes. It’s called Emmaus. Some are springing up in England too now, so watch out!
There was a muggy mist prevailing when I left home so I donned an old waterproof jacket that my daughter and I share. Sugar lumps in the pocket; where’s she been?
I digress; the point is that these guys, all about 6’ tall, were rivalling each other at finding the most ridiculous things to purchase; by way of communication they bellowed and guffawed in perfect queens’ English at each other over the rails of musty wares. I was irritated; I don’t like it when anyone talks loudly over others in public places, trains, buses and……… charity shops. And, of course, the shoppers were predominantly French speaking. Every turn I took they seemed to be just one step behind me, and then I found a little snippet of a garment. They were still behind and most definitely in ear-shot as I passed the ski-wear and I still couldn’t seem to shake them off; it was all I could do not to smile (like a Rottweiler) and make some comment, but didn’t know what comment to make. The leather jackets passed us by, shoes, bedding handbags and now they were closing the gap. Finally I took cover in a booth to try on the said snippet.
My right arm lacks movement, in fact I had been for my weekly physiotherapy session that same afternoon, so the jacket had to be removed at a jaunty angle, aided by a yank from the extended left arm. Doing a pretty good elephant impression, hardly touching the curtain that was in place for discretion, it then got itself latched onto one of the hooks in the booth until a final yank freed it from my back. That’s when the handful of sugar lumps shattered like shrapnel up above the booth and down onto the unsuspecting customers. I pulled back the curtain just in time to see the ‘gang of four’ as they looked round in obvious surprise and wonder as to how a bowl of sugar lumps could land on them.
Open mouthed in total amazement as to where the shower of sugar lumps had come from, there were the ‘gang of four’….. or were they in envy of the tantalizing snip I was clutching?
Hands Orrrf chaps!
Tales of Mother Hen 