Is Elsie the new Banksy?

Someone has written the word "fuck" on the wall of the workroom. It is  penciled in very small, very neat handwriting. The logical part of my brain says that it must have been one of the Duke of Edinburgh work experience kids that come in for an hour after school on a Wednesday. (perhaps I was a little bit patronising when I showed them how to turn the Hoover on...). Secretly I hope that it was Elsie...

Note on desk

 If a baby grow that would fit a jack russel happens to come in could you put it to one side for Mrs Mills please. Thank you.

Great Expectations

"Afternoon." says Elsie peering at me over the top of her bifocals "Have you some happy news for us or are we in fancy dress?"

My expression shows that I don't have a clue what she is talking about

"The smock! The smock! Have you something to share?" she pats me on the tummy

I suddenly realise that Elsie thinks I'm pregnant. "God no! It's not maternity... It's just a dress..."

Elsie is not embarrased by her mistake. "You're just like our Karen. She never got her figure back after her second either. Nevermind."

I wait until she is back on the till downstairs before helping myself to one of the shortbread fingers that Margaret brought us back from her holiday in Lindesfarne.

unwelcome guest

"Could you pass a bucket down here please? Quickly. There's a rat in the shop and it's hiding under the skirts...now it's in children's wear."

Michelle and I cower on the stairs as Francis the volunteer takes on the unwelcome guest armed with a purple bucket, a broom and a no nonsense look. A crowd of blokes from the bookies next door gather to watch the drama from a safe distance and an elderly woman abandons her walking frame/shopping trolley to join in the chase. Other customers chip in with their observations

"It's the size of a small kitten"
"I saw it walking past Flaming Wok and then it just tuned right and came straight in here..."

The rat scuttles from childrens wear to bric a brac. The man from the newsagents appears and his weapon of choice is a golf club from our window display.

"We don't need to kill it." says Francis, sternly

The rat is trapped in the corner by our shoe rack and manouvered into the bucket. The old woman falls over in the excitement and the men from the bookies abandon their ciggies to help her up. Francis walks calmly to the fire exit and lets the rat free.

"Francis took on a rat and she isn't even wearing socks." says Michelle, clearly blown away by her bravery. " Get the kettle on while I fill in an incident report sheet..."

An education.

Elsie arrives for her Friday afternoon shift at the shop. She pops into the workroom to pinch a couple of pieces of licorice.

"You know our Karen's taken up dogging for money since her little job at the deli went by the by? Well it's really taken off. since she put that card in the post office window...why are you looking at me like that? Have I said something out of turn?"

Caroline is sniggering into the dregs of her afternoon cuppa.

"I don't think your Karen is dogging Elsie. I think you mean dog walking."

"Well dogging and dog sitting. Same difference?"

"Not really Elsie." says Caroline taking a break from steaming the creases out of a pair of Per Una Linen trousers
"You see, dogging is exhibisionist sex and it happens after dark in that car park up the Wirral Way. I hope your Karen hasn't advertised herself as a dogger in the post office window. Especially if she's only charging £4 an hour..."

"Gosh. Is this a well known thing? I've never heard of it. I'm going downstairs to ask Edna..."

Later that afternoon as I rearrange bric a brac on the shop floor I over hear Edna telling Elsie about some of West Wirrals other dogging hotspots.

are you being served?

A bedraggeld old gent, with more than a whiff of sherry and urine about him, is pleading with Elsie at the till to let him into the changing room.

"I'm waiting to try these trousers on."

"I know sir but please... There's a young lady in there trying to squeeze herself into a Vivienne Westwood suit. Come out and give us a twirl luvvy... Are you sure that's buttoned up properly?It looks a bit...well I suppose that's what they call "the style" these days. "

"If she's going to be all day I'll try them on here..."

The gent drops his trousers in the middle of the shop and shuffles into his new ones. Elsie still manages to close the sale on the Vivienne Westwood suit.

mistaken identity

I've got one of those little fat fellas made of stone in my garden. What do you call them?

A gnome?

No, the other one. You know. Buddah.

wacko

I've stopped taking the painkillers for my foot. They were quite strong and I don't want to be turning into Micheal Jackson do I?

stains massive

Look at that! Disgusting! Who would beleive that a man who shopped at Marks and Spencers could be so dirty.

footloose

There used to be a woman here - forget her name now. Apparently she was a big noise at Littlewoods. Total disappointment. Not a clue. Put a pair of flip-flops out in autumn. Mind you I wouldn't wear them any time of year...not with my bunions.

roll up

That lucky dip is an embarassement. I'll have nothing more to do with it. Was it Doris's idea? Her tombola was a table full of tat too.

passing wind

Typical. I get up the stairs and sit on the loo and nothing. The minute I'm baclk behind that till I'll be passing wind no problem

widowed

"I was widowed very suddenly at 57 and I couldn't stop thinking well who is going to creosote the fence now?"

equal opportunity

"She's a sullen little madam."

"Just sits there behing the till all day, texting..."

"She never takes the hangers out of the clothes when she's serving..."

"Oh no. That'd be too much effort"

"And if I catch my leg on that blessed wheelchair of hers once more I'll..."

"They'll not get rid of her though...like I say it's all equal opportunities now so it makes us look good if we have a disabled one."

Complicated converation

"Well then, let me just ask... will you be calling him "He" or calling him "She"

"I think he prefers to be called she actually so..."

"Well don't expect me to be joining in. He is not a she. Under that dress he is a HE. If he really wanted to be a she there's an operation he could have but he's obviously not THAT bothered is she? I mean he."

"I'm not sure if it's... well, it's complicated isn't it?"

"Not really. And if that cuppa's mine go easy on the milk ta."

overheard whilst putting kettle on

"Strange bag... a tatty copy of "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" and one worn out flip-flop..."

"Heather Mills"

top secret

"This is just between you and me...I actually own enough wigs to stock a small wig shop."

headhunted

"I came out of retirement for a spell when the woman in habidashery went in for her hysterectomy..."

USP

"Have you met Stephanie...our transvestite?"
Betty (with eyebrows raised to heaven)

a bit of a spat

Toni (German octogenarian with super-human strength and OCD) to Hannah (pretty A level student who turns up for one hour every week to check that our jigsaw puzzles have the requisite amount of pieces - apparently she will get a Duke of Edinburgh award if she keeps it up for a year...)

"Look darling look this would be beautiful on you, here darling you have it..."

Me (choking on tuna sandwhich from Sayers)
"Hang on Toni I think that's a Chanel dress....?"

"Yes darling yes but it would suit the girl, let her take it don't be mean..."

"I...erm, sorry to be rude but, well...no we could sell that for quite a lot. I think so do you mind not giving it to Hannah? No offence. You're brilliant at sorting jigsaws and that but well, no way."

Hannah continues counting jigsaw pieces. Toni mutters insulting things about me in German whilst crushing cardboard boxes between her thighs.