I Did Not Say Anything.

(The title is lifted from Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. Her heroine says it countless times in one section of the novel, and I became increasingly irritated by it with each tedious use. I do realise that it was intended to reinforce the perception of her shy and retiring character, but it still irritated me. Nevertheless, it will do nicely for an insubstantial little recollection which has absolutely nothing to do with landed gentry, big old houses, murdered wives, evil housekeepers, or simple-minded old beachcombers who don’t want to go to an asylum.)

So, when I was in Sainsbury’s last week I found myself sharing the space in front of one of the freezer cabinets with a woman who looked to be around late thirties or fortyish. I found her appearance (or let’s call it her ‘presence’, which would probably be more accurate) intriguing.

She was wearing the most un-stylish jeans which I think I have ever seen – faded blue corduroy which was clean but looked well worn, and which were too wide to suit the modern taste in jeans designed for alternative use as drainpipes. Above that was an equally dowdy brown coat which would probably be borderline rejection in a charity shop or an Oxfam clothing bank. Her face was entirely devoid of make-up, her hair clean but unstyled. The most notable feature of her dress, however, lay with the matter of her shoes – old and battered trainers (sneakers if you prefer) which were heavily caked in dried mud. This is not a normal sight in Sainsbury’s, Ashbourne.

‘Aha,’ I thought. ‘Here is my kind of woman. No artifice, no pretence, no attempt to be “presentable.” This is an attitude of which I soundly approve.’

She saw me studying her (because that’s what INFJs do without realising the deleterious inferences which might be taken in consequence) and smiled in my direction. Her teeth were strong, perfectly formed, and a little on the yellow side.

I was suddenly possessed of the urge to say to her:

‘You’ve got a lot of dirt on your shoes, by the way. Did you know? Just there.’

And then it occurred to me that such a statement might give cause for concern or indignation on her part, and I might have to explain that it was a direct quotation from young Hermione Granger in the first Harry Potter film; and further, that it was merely intended to inject a little harmless levity into an otherwise dull day.

I thought again and imagined the various responses which such a verbal onslaught might provoke. My favourite guess was a long, silent, challenging stare, at which point I grew bored with the experience and moved off to join the checkout queue. She took the one next to mine and got through first. I suppose justice was suitably served.