“Can
you just measure my fly, love – I need a new zip …..”
This was an opening gambit from an elderly
gentleman whom I had never met before when he wandered into my shop looking
helpless and slightly bewildered. As propositions go, it could have been
better. I side-stepped the awkwardness, I thought, by waving my tape measure
(which does not have a discreet solid
end section such as gentlemen’s tailors use for inside leg measurements) in the
general direction of his trouser area and said confidently “ah yes, this zip here
will be fine, I’m sure”.
Then
there was a similar occasion when I was trapped against the button stand with a
non-too-savoury aromatic workman wanting me to check whether his trouser button
was black or brown. I feel that chat up lines aren’t what they used to be in
this part of the Fylde and it can be quite a challenge to diplomatically
extricate myself and flee to the safety of the front of the shop with my
counter between me and said customer.
Life
in a wool, sewing & haberdashery shop isn’t as staid and ordinary as it
might seem. It isn’t all safe and stable Grannies wanting to knit baby wool in
pink, blue or white. Indeed no. Sometimes other people come in and demand
bright red and navy, oranges and lime greens just to see if they can shock me,
but I tell them “You can’t scare me – I have grandchildren!”
I
set up in Stitches, my wool shop, about 2 ½ years ago. I’m still not quite sure
how it happened. Mid-life crisis perhaps. We had been out one Saturday night
about 3 years ago, can’t remember where ‘cos I’m not normally allowed out in
the evenings, and when we came back I had a sudden urge to Google ‘Craft shops
for sale in Lancashire’. Literally, it was as random as that, and completely out of the blue. Five minutes into my search and I found the shop that I used to frequent as a
customer was for sale. “Look at this,” I said to the long-suffering Mr PDP, “My
shop is for sale!” To his credit, he was very discreet with his eye-rolling and
even tried to sound enthusiastic and interested. Deep down, he was probably
feeling ‘oh no, what now?’
Because
we live in a technological age, it was a matter of moments to send off an email
requesting details and asking for an appointment to view. If I’d had to take
the time and effort to write a letter instead, sanity would probably have
kicked in and common sense would have prevailed. As it was, the very next week
found us in the company of an extremely nice bank manager who should have known
better than to encourage me in such a venture, and the rest, as they say
(whoever they are), is history.
Stay with me and I'll share the comings and goings of the innocent inhabitants of a market town near you ........
