Diary of a Shopkeeper, 21st May
‘I came down on Saturday,’ said Mrs Stentorian, ‘And you were closed.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I said. ‘I did try and get the word out…’
‘It’s a poor way to treat your loyal customers, beuy,’ said Willie Pickle.
‘It was exceptional circumstances,’ I said. ‘A one-off.’
‘I came down too,’ said Kiwi Kate, over at the New Zealand wine shelf. ‘I saw the sign on the door.’
Mrs Stentorian snorted. ‘Yes, it said CLOSED.’
‘It said,’ said Kate, ‘that Lauren the shop manager was getting married and so everyone would be in the cathedral and not in the shop. An excellent reason to be closed.’
‘Hmmph! There must have been some workaround. A pager, for instance, so if there were any urgent customer request you could’ve popped across the road for a moment.’
I shook my head. ‘Imagine: ‘Do you, Lauren, take this man to be…’ BEEP BEEP! ‘A hundred grammes of cheddar and a bottle of Malbec.’ And then I scuttle out of the cathedral?’
‘Talking of scuttling,’ said Kate, ‘when my sister Keira got married to Karl in Rotorua, his first wife got wind of it and scuttled the boat halfway through the ceremony.’
‘That’s a bit extreme,’ I said, ‘It could have been fatal.’
‘Yeah no,’ said Kate, ‘It was on a restaurant boat moored at the shallow end of Lake Rerewhakaaitu. It sank about a foot then hit the bottom. The only damage was to the best man.’
‘What happened?’ said Willie.
‘Turned out he’d been having a fling with Karl’s ex. It was him who told her where the do was. So Keira gave him a black eye.’
‘There was nothing like that on Saturday,’ I said, ‘It was all very peaceful. In fact it was a joy from start to finish. The service in the cathedral was heartfelt and good humoured. The meal in the Firth hall was tasty. And the wine was, for some reason, the best I’ve ever had at a wedding.’
‘When dear Bertie and I were married,’ said Mrs Stentorian, ‘My Uncle Sebastian said he’d provide wine for the wedding reception. He was in the trade, you see. By Royal Appointment, in fact: he was official wine supplier to His Excellency Archduke Roussos, Crown Prince of West Macedonia. Of course he was living in exile by this time, in Pett Bottom near Canterbury. Imagine our surprise when a whole barrel of West Macedonian wine showed up in the function suite of the Saucy Chaucer Hotel. With strict instructions we’d to finish it that night, or His Excellency would be mortally offended.’
‘Was it a big barrel?’ said Willie.
‘I believe it was 150 bottles,’ she said, ‘Which was quite a lot seeing as there were only 40 guests. Poor Bertie struggled manfully to do more than his share to keep the Archduke happy, which meant he had absolutely no memory of our wedding day!’
‘There was nothing like that on Saturday either,’ I said. ‘We were all models of restraint and moderation.’ (No one saw my fingers crossed beneath the counter.)
‘There were compensations,’ said Mrs S. ‘The Archduke’s grandson Demis made his UK debut performing at the wedding dance.’
‘We had Saltfish Forty and the Stereo Lobsters,’ I said.
‘A seafood theme!’ said Kate. ‘A shame Salmon & Garfunkel have split up.’
‘They were brilliant,’ I said. ‘I danced my legs down to the knees.’
‘Ah! Our first dance had to be curtailed when I became entangled in Demis Roussos’s kaftan and went flying. I did my ankle a mischief, and it swelled up horribly. Poor Bertie shepherded me off to bed and, in the absence of any ice packs, used wedges of watermelon from the buffet to bring down the swelling. Goodness knows what the chambermaid thought when she found a dozen melons in our marital bed next morning.’
My jaw dropped. ‘There was nothing like that on Saturday night,’ I said.
Not as far as I know, anyway. Very best wishes to Lauren and Alex!
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 24th May 2023. A new one appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions