Diary of a Shopkeeper, 24th October
Mrs Stentorian had been over at the wine shelves for ages. All I could hear was the clink of glass and the thud of wood as she picked up and set down one bottle after another.
‘Are you sure I can’t help you?’ I called down the length of the shop.
‘Quite sure,’ she said. ‘I’m just looking.’
‘In that case,’ I said, turning to Kiwi Kate, ‘I can get your cheese for you. What would you like today?’
Before Kate could say a word, Mrs Stentorian was by her side, frowning at me. ‘Begging your pardon, shopkeeper, I think you were in the middle of serving me.’
‘Never mind,’ said Kate. ‘As long as I get my Godminster Organic before the planet suffers irreversible climate-change I’ll be fine. You’ve got about 20 minutes.’
‘What can I do for you, Mrs Stentorian?’ I said.
‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘The trick or treat is solved!’ And she lifted up our huge display bottle of Champagne that sits between the wine shelves, and held it high in triumph. ‘I read in in the Mail,’ she said, ‘But I wanted to see it with my own eyes. And here it is.’
‘Here what is?’ said Kate.
‘Artificial wine!’ she cried, and gave the bottle a shake, so the cork, which was only balanced on top, fell off and rolled under the cheese fridge.
‘You mean Fake Booze?’ I said in a Trumpish accent, and laughed. Kiwi Kate joined in, but Mrs Stentorian didn’t.
‘Groceries are in such short supply,’ she said, ‘that supermarkets have taken to filling empty shelves with cardboard cut-outs of asparagus and oranges.’
‘Keeping up appearances,’ said Kate. ‘Like your friend Hyacinth Bucket.’
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Though I don’t know anyone called Hyacinth. Anyway, I put it down to everyone doing their shopping online. The world has gone Amazon mad: every lorry you see is stuffed to the gills with jiffy bags and cardboard boxes, instead of the oranges and asparagus they should be delivering. And – as we now see – wine.’
‘Jiffy bags? That’s the cause? Sure it’s not because of…B-B-bad luck?’ said Kate, and raised her eyebrows.
‘That bottle’s just for display,’ I said. ‘It’s been there at least ten years. It’s a Mathasulem, equivalent to eight standard bottles.’
‘That would set one back a pretty penny,’ said Mrs Stentorian.
‘It would if it had any Champagne in it,’ I said. ‘You don’t get much for cheese-scented air, even six litres of it.’ I went round the front of the counter, took the bottle from her, and returned it to its rightful place. She didn’t seem to mind: she’d made her point, even if it was completely wrong.
Except Kate didn’t think it was wrong. ‘Sweet as, Mrs S,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to get past this madness of thinking that everything in the world had to be delivered at the click of a mouse. Do we really need all that stuff? The planet doesn’t need it, that’s for sure.’
‘Aye aye, I’m a great fan of shop local and eat local,’ I said. ‘I mean, asparagus from Peru? Forget it. I’d rather wait till May when I can get Scottish or English-grown. It tastes better too. But the wine trade is inescapably international.’
‘If you only sold British wine your shelves would be even barer than they are,’ said Mrs Stentorian.
‘The shelves aren’t bare! We’ve got 500 wines to choose from! Though I admit I’m still waiting for that pallet to come from France…’
‘Give me a bit of cardboard and a marker pen,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll soon rustle up some Châteauneuf-du-Pape for you.’
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 27th October. Other diaries continue to 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.