Diary of a Shopkeeper, 30th August
Kiwi Kate was in the shop, and not for the first time we were debating the merits of New Zealand wine. First of all I championed Malborough, and she advocated Martinborough. Then I spoke up for Waipara and she was all out for Wairarapa.
I knew that very soon we’d have to get onto Central Otago versus somewhere or other, and I hoped that I’d get to shout out first. We both knew that Otago makes the best wines in New Zealand, and whoever was arguing against it could never win.
But before we got that far, in rushed Mrs Stentorian, looking unusually flustered. She stopped in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed above her tweed mask, her specs misting up as the breath heaved in and out of her.
“I need to wash my hands,” she said. “I feel so dirty!”
Kiwi Kate threw me a look, which I ignored. “See that blue stand there, Mrs S. Put your hands under the nozzle and stand on the pedal. You’ll get as much sanitiser as you like.”
“I feel like throwing my clothes off and sanitising myself from top to toe,” she cried.
Kate looked at me again, but I gave her a frown in return. “Now now,” I said, ‘”Whatever’s happened can’t be that bad.”
“I was just talked to in a very peremptory manner by a woman in a hi-vis jacket,” she said, wringing her hands together then squirting yet more gel on them. “And the worst of it is, I brought it all on myself.”
“What on earth happened?” I said.
“I popped into town for two or three essentials – avocado oil from The Brig and some vol au vent cases from the Frozen Food Centre – and I parked in the Prince Albert car park. Always my favourite: I like the royal connection.”
She took a couple of steps into the shop – the wrong way round the one-way system! She really was shaken up.
“The machine wouldn’t dispense a ticket if one didn’t put money in it. Well that’s not right, I thought, because it’s First Hour Free. It must be broken. And off I trotted to Bridge Street.”
“Not even ow.” said Kate. “I can see what’s coming.”
“On my return, just five minutes later, this young woman was standing by my car with her yellow jacket and her notebook, about to give me a parking ticket. Well, I won’t go into all the excruciating details of our conversation, but it turns out First Hour Free hasn’t begun yet.”
“Do you not read the paper?” I said.
“I take the Mail every day, and it’s never been mentioned once. ’Do you know what month it is?’ she asked me. ‘July,’ I said. ‘No, August. Or is it September already? One gets so confused without the regular summer events to keep one in sync.’”
“Like Shopping Week and County Show,” said Kate.
“I was thinking of Wimbledon and Ascot,” said Mrs Stentorian.
“So what happened?” I said.
“The girl positively glared at me. ‘I mean, madam, do you know what month the Free First Hour starts?’ Of course, I had to admit I didn’t even know it had stopped. And there I stood: a common criminal.”
She retreated to the door and pumped sanitiser into her cupped hands.
“No need to pack a sad,” said Kate. “It’s a strange time. We’re all unsure about lots of things.”
“Listen Mrs S,” I said. “I’ll tell you about my Sunday morning ritual. I sit down on the sofa, turn the Sonos up loud, and I play an hour of classic gospel tracks. Aretha Franklin, the Blind Boys of Alabama, Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers. I sit there, I press play, and it all washes over me: the sound of certainty.”
“I never had you as a religious fellow,” said Mrs S, slightly calmer now.
“I’m either an atheist or an agnostic,” I said. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about a lot of things right now. But if I can hear Sister Rosetta Tharpe sing Can’t No Grave Hold My Body Down – with such conviction, such certainty that what she believes is true – well, it makes me a little less worried about all my uncertainties.”
“I’ll tell you one thing that I’m 100% sure about,” said Kiwi Kate.
“What’s that?” said Mrs S.
“The best wine in New Zealand is definitely made in Central Otago.”
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 3rd September Other diaries will appear weekly. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.