I'm all charity shopped out. No, seriously, during the last three weeks we've hit them in Swindon, Barry, Cowbridge, Llantwit Major, Wootton Bassett, Burford, Weston Village, Bath, Bath city centre, Midsomer Norton, Radstock, Marlborough, Calne, Chippenham and Devizes. If we've hit one we've hit at least twenty and probably considerably more.
I shouldn't complain. After all, one thing I quite fancied was finding a pair of blue jeans without paying for them over twelve months by DD (you know what I mean, eh?). I'd all but given up when, just last weekend we entered the British Heart Foundation store in Midsomer Norton High Street and, almost as an afterthought, having found zillions of pairs in any number of other stores but not having found a pair to my size or liking, I stumbled across a pair of Marks and Spencer Blue Harbour jeans that were brand new. They still had the cardboard thingie stapled to the back pocket with those little plastic wotsits and the M&S price label, still attached, showed that they were £19.50 new. I went to the till and told the lady "These are coming home with me" and she looked at me as if I'd spoken a foreign language. Some people just don't have a sense of humour do they.
Actually, she was OK in the end, she'd been preoccupied by the fact that the cash register was fighting back and thus she wasn't able to get it to open.
"Do you have the correct change by any chance?" She asked us, fraught. The prices was a princely £4.49 and the best we could do was garner together from both of our purses the sum of £3.99 in change. She told us that would do. I'm not in the habit of asking for discount in charity stores but, well, you know, what else could one do?
I was wearing these very same jeans just yesterday when we went with my brother-in-law to Calne and Devizes to get out of my sister's hair while she prepared a special anniversary dinner for us, since it was our anniversary yesterday, did I tell you? Can't tell you how many years though, the light of my life would have my guts for garters, since she's now younger than the number of years we've been married.
Calne is a delightful little Wiltshire town that many years ago was dominated by the Harris sausage factory. It used to employ over 2,000 people, but was demolished in the 1980's. The only thing that reminds the current visitor to Calne that it once subsisted on the meat from dead pigs is a rather curious bronze sculpture that can be found at the entrance to a not-very-attractive shopping precinct...
Anyway, I digress. There is a charity shop in this precinct run by the Scope organisation, which specialises in helping those with disabilities to integrate into society. I rather admire their efforts.
In the Scope shop I stumbled upon a virtually new pair of Diadora sport shoes that were my size and simply too good to pass up. There was I, telling my wife and brother-in-law that I didn't want to see another charity shop for at least a year and yet, much against my will at the start, I went into this one. I tried the shoes on and that was it, had to have 'em. I took them to the till and the man there was having trouble with the cash register (sound familiar?). As he did what every self-respecting man would do in such circumstances, he called his female colleague to see if she could sort it out, we carried on a lighthearted conversation about trivia. Then he said something that made my ears perk up ike a piggy's. He said:
"You know, you remind me of someone."
I get this all the time. Pierce Brosnan, Roger Moore (in his younger days!) - in my dreams.
"Really?" I asked, expectantly. "Who might that be then?"
"Well, a couple of years ago I was in Rhodes, Greece and we went on an excursion. You remind me of the guide on the coach." OK, so he (like every other guest I've ever had) doesn't know the difference between a guide and an escort, but this was strange indeed. Tempted to ask what he thought of the man in question, I resisted and asked where he'd been staying and what tour operator he'd travelled with. Lindos and Olympic Holidays were his replies. Bingo.
"That was me." I replied. There were never two more gobsmacked blokes staring at each other so incredulously in the history of synchronicity I can tell you. "I live in Rhodes, toward the South of the island and I pick up guests from Lindos every week." You may or may not believe this, but I'm not in the habit of telling everyone I interact with in the UK that I live abroad. It's not nice is it? But here was a circumstance that demanded that I own up. Imagine though, here he was volunteering in the local charity shop down the road from where he lives, and in walks this bloke who'd taken him on a day trip whilst on a foreign holiday a couple of years before.
After a little more chat during which we established irrefutably that I had indeed been his escort on the excursion, we shook hands and I exited the store, well pleased both with my purchase and the sheer odds against such a thing happening.
I often say when people say they remember me (when they actually do know it was me that is) "Once seen, never forgotten." Only because it's one of those trite little phrases that we all seem to know, of course.
Oh I dunno, maybe there's an element of truth in it after all.
I shouldn't complain. After all, one thing I quite fancied was finding a pair of blue jeans without paying for them over twelve months by DD (you know what I mean, eh?). I'd all but given up when, just last weekend we entered the British Heart Foundation store in Midsomer Norton High Street and, almost as an afterthought, having found zillions of pairs in any number of other stores but not having found a pair to my size or liking, I stumbled across a pair of Marks and Spencer Blue Harbour jeans that were brand new. They still had the cardboard thingie stapled to the back pocket with those little plastic wotsits and the M&S price label, still attached, showed that they were £19.50 new. I went to the till and told the lady "These are coming home with me" and she looked at me as if I'd spoken a foreign language. Some people just don't have a sense of humour do they.
Actually, she was OK in the end, she'd been preoccupied by the fact that the cash register was fighting back and thus she wasn't able to get it to open.
"Do you have the correct change by any chance?" She asked us, fraught. The prices was a princely £4.49 and the best we could do was garner together from both of our purses the sum of £3.99 in change. She told us that would do. I'm not in the habit of asking for discount in charity stores but, well, you know, what else could one do?
I was wearing these very same jeans just yesterday when we went with my brother-in-law to Calne and Devizes to get out of my sister's hair while she prepared a special anniversary dinner for us, since it was our anniversary yesterday, did I tell you? Can't tell you how many years though, the light of my life would have my guts for garters, since she's now younger than the number of years we've been married.
Calne is a delightful little Wiltshire town that many years ago was dominated by the Harris sausage factory. It used to employ over 2,000 people, but was demolished in the 1980's. The only thing that reminds the current visitor to Calne that it once subsisted on the meat from dead pigs is a rather curious bronze sculpture that can be found at the entrance to a not-very-attractive shopping precinct...
 |
| Oddly, the inscription (not visible here) makes no reference to the Harris factory. |
Anyway, I digress. There is a charity shop in this precinct run by the Scope organisation, which specialises in helping those with disabilities to integrate into society. I rather admire their efforts.
In the Scope shop I stumbled upon a virtually new pair of Diadora sport shoes that were my size and simply too good to pass up. There was I, telling my wife and brother-in-law that I didn't want to see another charity shop for at least a year and yet, much against my will at the start, I went into this one. I tried the shoes on and that was it, had to have 'em. I took them to the till and the man there was having trouble with the cash register (sound familiar?). As he did what every self-respecting man would do in such circumstances, he called his female colleague to see if she could sort it out, we carried on a lighthearted conversation about trivia. Then he said something that made my ears perk up ike a piggy's. He said:
"You know, you remind me of someone."
I get this all the time. Pierce Brosnan, Roger Moore (in his younger days!) - in my dreams.
"Really?" I asked, expectantly. "Who might that be then?"
"Well, a couple of years ago I was in Rhodes, Greece and we went on an excursion. You remind me of the guide on the coach." OK, so he (like every other guest I've ever had) doesn't know the difference between a guide and an escort, but this was strange indeed. Tempted to ask what he thought of the man in question, I resisted and asked where he'd been staying and what tour operator he'd travelled with. Lindos and Olympic Holidays were his replies. Bingo.
"That was me." I replied. There were never two more gobsmacked blokes staring at each other so incredulously in the history of synchronicity I can tell you. "I live in Rhodes, toward the South of the island and I pick up guests from Lindos every week." You may or may not believe this, but I'm not in the habit of telling everyone I interact with in the UK that I live abroad. It's not nice is it? But here was a circumstance that demanded that I own up. Imagine though, here he was volunteering in the local charity shop down the road from where he lives, and in walks this bloke who'd taken him on a day trip whilst on a foreign holiday a couple of years before.
After a little more chat during which we established irrefutably that I had indeed been his escort on the excursion, we shook hands and I exited the store, well pleased both with my purchase and the sheer odds against such a thing happening.
I often say when people say they remember me (when they actually do know it was me that is) "Once seen, never forgotten." Only because it's one of those trite little phrases that we all seem to know, of course.
Oh I dunno, maybe there's an element of truth in it after all.
Many congratulations on your anniversary. You've been around my neck of the woods - lived near Devizes for several years and now not far from Bath. Looking forward to reading your next Rambling from Rhodes.
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