Relinquishing the House Style.

I seem to be attracting an entourage of middle aged female shop assistants in Ashbourne whose increasingly familiar manner is making me suspicious. What do they want of me? Are they possessed of some unsubstantiated notion that we’re friends? Do they think I need mothering? Do they see themselves as being on the shelf and hope to ingratiate themselves into my affections that they might benefit from my will?

One of them greeted me today by calling across the shop: ‘Are you all right there?’

Now, my first instinct on being so accosted would be to reply: ‘Why do you ask? Do you have reason to believe that my life would improve if I were somewhere else?’ But I’m trying to be a better person; I’ve said so often enough. And so I returned the greeting with a quizzical look, paused for a few seconds, and said: ‘Yes, thanks.’ Point made, but kindly made (relatively speaking.)

See what a nice person I’m becoming? Gregory House would be ashamed of me.