I was at the counter in the hardware store (it’s nicely old fashioned and locally owned, which is why it still has a counter), returning a faulty light bulb which I bought last week. I heard a woman’s voice behind me and turned to trace the source. She looked at me and smiled in a way I can only describe as the sort of smile you would expect of a little girl to whom you had just given the money to buy an ice cream. Bright, shining, almost playful. It was so bright that I hardly noticed the crooked front tooth thus revealed (or maybe the crooked front tooth contributed to the charm. How can one tell?)
And so as we walked to the door side by side – purely by accident, you understand – I couldn’t resist the urge to compliment her. ‘Excuse me,’ I began, ‘I hope you won’t mind a personal comment, but you do have the most engaging smile.’ She did it again, so I felt emboldened to continue: ‘It’s real, which isn’t as common as you might think.’ And then I luxuriated for several minutes at the thought that she might go home and tell her husband: ‘There was this really nice man in the hardware store, and do you know what he said?’ Or the alternative might have been: ‘There was this creepy old guy in David Neil’s today. Made me shiver, he did, dirty old scrote.’ I will never know of course, for such are the mysterious vicissitudes of life.
I might add, however, that I’d just come from Sainsbury’s where I’d engaged the deputy manageress, or whatever she was, in a discussion about my having been overcharged to the tune of £5 last week. She didn’t smile. Her manner was one of constant aggressive defensiveness to everything I said, as though she’d been trained by Catholic nuns, well versed in the corrective use of a whippy cane, scaring innocent young children with tales of the Devil coming to pull their fingernails out very slowly if they didn’t pay obeisance to gentle Jesus every night. ‘And the screams of agony will be so terrible that they might carry all the way to Tipperary if the wind is in the right direction.’ Or maybe I exaggerate a little (but not much.) Not being an innocent young child, however, I did come away with my £5.
And then a lady smiled brightly at me. Job done.
And I’ll tell you what was odd about Ashbourne today. I saw several people walking dogs, both driving there and walking around the town, and every single one of the dogs was a Cocker Spaniel. No other breeds or mongrels at all, just Cocker Spaniels. Was that a message from the universe, do you think? I did wonder.
Oh, nearly forgot the trolley girl outside Sainsbury’s. She was walking up from the car park and noticed an errant shopping trolley which had been lazily left on the paved walkway that leads to the town centre. She made a detour to collect the article and placed it neatly on the line of trolleys outside the wall of the store. That was impressive, and so I said ‘Congratulations. Not many people do that sort of thing.’ She didn’t smile either. She coloured up quite alarmingly and hurried past.
And then I noticed something interesting about her. Her lissom form, body language, hairstyle, and clarity of skin suggested a mid-to-late teenager, but her eyes carried the experience of a 30-year-old. I considered approaching her to suggest that she might be an old soul, but then I worried about the fairness and clarity of her apparently young cheeks. Maybe they wouldn’t take too kindly to the sanguinary experience to which she seemed inclined to subject them, so I didn’t.
And that was today in Ashbourne. The car behaved well today, bless her. She’s French, you know. Time for coffee and toast now (I’ve missed four hours sleep this week and the caffeine helps.)
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