“You’ve got beautiful big eyes,” said the sales assistant at
the till. “Thank you,” I replied, “so has my grandson,” I quickly added. I was
holding him up so that he could see all the shopping action first hand. The
lady’s face fell. My little joke had fallen on stony ground [again]. She turned
away in embarrassment and busied herself with another task.
My eyes are small, rather narrow, too close together and getting
older. I tried to rescue the situation by chatting to the younger assistant,
who was standing alongside her. Humour transplant required, I thought - and
then, oh dear - Has she gone to get the store detective to quiz me for harassment?
Did she push the panic button that alerts her superiors to an imminent robbery
or assault? Am I on CCTV, infringing the “Be nice to our employees, or else”
guidelines. It was only a joke. I promise I won’t do it again.
We went to another department in search of “My First Train Set.”
I mumbled to my wife that she had better do the talking. I remembered the first
train set that I played with, in the garden of my uncle’s house in Winchester
in the early 1950s. I think it was Hornby O gauge and I invented a very
ambitious layout for it, as you can see. Sorry about the eyes.
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