The Shop Paradox

Life is weird. For the most part we go from day to day, doing the same things we do everyday. I guess that’s because all of us are forced to work to pay bills, buy food and save for rainy days, which we seem to be experiencing more and more of. These clockwork lifestyles are a kind of repetition that we get used to. Once, twice or three times a year, if we are lucky to be able to make these choices, we get to justify these routines with merited holidays and weekend breaks away in the “seen better days” caravan. Because of Groundhog Days, when something out of the ordinary happens, we are at times paralysed into inaction. That is exactly what happened to me on the 3 June. My birthday!

I admit Im not a ardent supporter of “special days” I guess I always viewed them as commercially orchestrated events, designed to get us to part with money we don’t have, to buy stuff we don’t need for people we don’t really do life with. That said, this year was slightly different.

During the early part of this year I met my partner Olga on a team building exercise, laid on by our company. Ollie (my anglicised nickname for Olga, which I didn’t like because it reminded me too much of the characters like Marty Feldman) is fascinating. A good-looking woman with some hard features, very typical of the Germanic/Balkan type of woman. Her chiselled features were accentuated by the huge gap between her two front teeth, through which she would force mushed up banana and jam, leaving a perfectly formed line of square “jamana” resting from her chin. That too was weird, because even to this day she still thinks this is an attractive quality that would be the difference between finding a husband and a life of solitude. I admit I have been tempted many times to sneak into in human resources, to take a peak at her Job application, just to satisfy my twisted curiosity that Jamanaing might be on her CV under Strengths. Still, even if it was, she would still have wowed the interviewing panel with her infectious and comforting confidence. Such is the character of Ollie.

I myself am a more reserved plodder. Im a creative guy with some energy, albeit bottlenecked. Its fair to say I’m apathetic too and all too often take so long deliberating over everything, so it rarely, if ever gets done. That is a shame because I am so full of ideas, but they never seem to make their way past my cerebral cortex. But I talk a great talk and no doubt would be in trouble if the world suddenly became deaf. For mental context, I would say I am a cross between bugs bunny and droopy, while Ollie is a cross between Daffy Duck and Betty Boo! Together, life is sublime, and she is so funny, not at all afraid to make a fool of herself and I find myself pre-occupied with her SOH and laughing most of the time. Even when she is sleeping she is funny. Remember that gap in the teeth I was telling you about? I love to find more and interesting ways to use that gap for fun. You see, Ollie has to sleep on her back and although she doesn’t snore, she does sleep soundly and produces a whistling sound as a result of her mouth being half opened. I discovered if I held a pen over different parts of one tooth, I was able to change the pitch. Three blind mice never took so long! But it doesn’t end there. Other early morning challenges range from seeing how many cotton buds I could fit in the gap, or filling it with flower stems so she looked like a human vase and one time I even placed the nipple from a piece of belly pork left over from our meal as she slept on the sofa. All things considered, Im glad I found my soul mate and wouldn’t do a thing to jeopardise that. (well the pig nipple came close)

Back to June 3rd. Like I said Im not a fan of B’days, but as a special request from Ollie to go for a walk, we decided to make our way to Newark for what would turn out to be life changing. It was a Monday, so that meant for the most part, Newark was open but rather sleepy. We preferred that, as most of our life is filled with people in one way or another, so to get time to ourselves was all the more special. As we walked through the small town, we took in the normal haunts I patronised over the years. Crossing over from the Castle parade we slipped up a one way street that would lead to the Butter Market. A grand reconstruction of market traders from ages gone by. As we walked up this narrow through-fair, I noticed an ally way between two stores, barely the width of a person. Although I hadn’t live there, I had visited the town hundreds of times over the years, and never did I notice this Ginnel, but oddly it was a familiar to me as the rest of the town which I did know. In turn, we peered into the alley noticing the stone-built walls either side of the alley and the flag stones on the floor being the same as those found in the ruined castle grounds. I mused that maybe this overlooked alley was some part of the castle keep, as it was only 500 yards away. Making my way up the street I still mused how I could have missed this in all the years I came here. I turned back, still remonstrating to Ollie, only to find she was no longer there. Calling her name, a reply came from down the alley. “Im here Sandy Balls, C’mon quickly you wont believe this.” She said, with a whistle tailing off the S’s. At this point I should tell you her nickname for me “Sandy Balls” is not a flattering refence to my adventures on the beach but refers to the place where we met in Hampshire. Walking down this claustrophobic passage, I could smell the seaside. I reasoned the walls must have been made from stones quarried near a coast. On the walls of the alley were symbols and foreign words scratched into each stone as with a pen knife. Nothing on these stones made sense. At the end of the alley was a shop were Ollie looking into the tiniest of windows, adjacent to the tiniest of shop doors. The door was made of oak and had weathered around the bullet studs that held the door together. Although there was a light in the window, we couldn’t quite make out what was in the shop as the glass had become frosted with age. The tight space of the alley made it impossible for us both to move so I started to make my way back up. As I moved toward the light of the main street, the walls became narrower than before. I turned sideways thinking I must have done that on my way in. But soon that became too tight to walk through. I turned my head to Ollie who seemed less concerned than myself. How? was my thought but at the same time panicking. All the way in it was shoulder width, but now barely 20 yards from the entrance, it was too tight to force into. Panicking, Ollie pulled me back into the wider area of the alley, “We need to go into the shop” I reasoned with Ollie who nodded agreeably. We opened the oak door to the shop and stepped down into the cramped shop. All we could see were odd trinkets on sparsely populated shelves. The shop was tiny too, blacked out with ancient oak shelves and a single counter. In the corner was an old small blackboard above an oil filled lamp. On it was written the words: “HONOUR STORE – Please take and pay what you think its worth leaving your money on the counter”

I stepped outside again, only this time I could see no lights of the street at the end of the alleyway. The alley way entrance had disappeared. Ollie, still calmer than me began to look around. It was clear someone had been here recently for there was no dust anywhere. All the trinkets were polished. Even though our minds were racing away with confusion and fear, Ollie noticed a cabinet under the counter. In the cabinet was a solitary item, a little black book. Ollie reached in and took hold of the book. Placing it on the counter we looked at the cover. The cover was embossed with the gold number 3.6.9 It meant nothing to either of us, but as we opened the book we saw page after page was filled with the events of my life. I read each one with a growing anxiety, hoping I would wake up sweating. But I knew this wasn’t a dream. As we read through the little black book, I became increasingly fearful because the events were nearer to this day and I feared what would be on the final pages. Whatever this was, it knew events only known to me. Ollie held on to me tightly as we turned the page of todays events. I paused because I didn’t want to know what would be written on the next page. For that represented my future. I could see through the velum of the paper, words were written on the other side, but looking at the condition of the other pages, it was obvious the further pages were empty. I slammed the little black shut, and looked at Ollie with tears falling on my cheek. This was the first time she had seen me afraid and I gazed at her as if I was pleading for her to help me. Ollie gently took the book from my hand and placed it on the counter front cover down. On the back cover we saw the words. “This book is your Life, the wall is your mind” Ollie looked out into the alleyway, the symbols on the stones becoming readable. On each stone was a thought and mindset I had built up over the years. Some were good but too many were written on stones that narrowed the passage that was clearly my life. As I started to walk back up the alley way, I read each stone and in my mind I reasoned I had narrowed my thinking, blocking opportunities with my fears of what might be, but never were. Each thought was revealed in the light of what I knew now, and each step forward opened up the narrowness of the alley. I approached the entrance to the alley with Ollie by my side realising the breadth of freedom. We stepped out into the light hand in hand, liberated in my thinking. I turned to see the alley, but it was gone. What remained was exactly as I remembered. Now in our 90’s, me and Ollie reflect on the little black book, knowing how the rest of those pages were written, and knowing our life became the greatest of adventures because I dared to read that book.