I
had that Leo Tolstoy at my till last night. He bought rye bread, salt
and vodka. The big white beard was a giveaway. To quote Groucho Marx "
don't point that thing at me it might go off".Still, I suppose, I ought to be honoured that the back
from the dead Russian writer should want to use my till. Come to think of it some years back I had Samuel Beckett at the till although he was not a great talker. Great writers both, but not as good as Nastikoff
I am on the end till and it is night. The light reflects off my
head and I conclude that they have me as a beacon to attract passing
trade or warn passing ships
Three Polish families come through the tills one after another.
Man with little English loses wallet and goes home returns still no
wallet. Is panicking and unloads the rucksack. Turns it upside down
and shakes. Wallet falls out. Huge look of relief on his face. I
suggest that he has a swig of the cherry vodka that he has bought. He
doesn't understand me.
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