And Then An Oily Tale...

Her and I and we where in a big garden superstore on Sunday and I noted the outdoor area had small independent shops along one side so I decided to explore them while my little nest of vipers, needing a snack,  searched for the poison ivy display.

I located a little place called This Is Life which was exactly what you’d expect; wind chimes, pan pipe music, incense, essential oils an’ such so in I went.

The nice middle aged owner lady was also as expected; all kaftan, pig tails and strings of wooden beads. I politely bade the good lady a cheery good-morning and she, after a short pause while she ensured my aura was suitably benign, did likewise from her to me.

The shop was little bigger than a phone booth so my looking around was soon completed and I was ready to leave. But how to walk out after using the shops oxygen but not making a purchase?  There was a sizeable display of they fragrant oils wot you use with those candle burner lookin’ thingies and I seemed to remembered seeing somewhere a small oil burner that hooked onto a central heating radiator. Do we want one? No, but it’ll make for a polite retreat from the shop.

I aske the kaftan an’ wooden beaded lady if she sold such an item using much miming of cupped hands to get the message across.
”No I don’t.” She said. “But that sounds like a good idea.” She said. “I have two dogs so I use a lot of those fragrant oils.” She said. “You could rub a little oil along the radiator with your finger tip I guess.” She said.
After a thoughtful pause she asked, “Have you done a Google?”
”That I have; before I came out; I’m lucky; regular as clockwork every morning prior to showering.” I replied.**

At that moment the kaftan an’ wooden bead bedecked lady appeared to go into convulsions and she slowly sank from sight behind the counter. Damn!! What to do? Rush round and help her? Call for help? Dial 666? Have I got that the wrong way round? Quietly leave, with a wind chime, and pretend I’d seen nothing? Is there any CCTV?

At this point the lady resurfaced from behind the counter and I quickly ascertained that the convulsions had been those of laughter. Seeing all was well with her I quietly replaced the wind chime, not easy, and said, “I’ll probably just try your method with the oil. What was it again? Pour a bottle of it over the dog?”
At this, the easily amused kaftan an’ wooden bead bedecked lady collapsed behind the counter once more so I made my excuses and left. I hope the rest of her Sunday was as much fun.

Quote;  **With thanks to the much missed Leslie Nielsen for the trigger.

Ed:   “You want to take a dinghy?” 
Frank:   “No, I took care of that at the press conference.”