Did you every go into a shop and get a very unwelcome look from the person behind the counter?  You say “good morning, just the paper please”.  She looks at you as if you’ve invaded her space.  You hand her the paper.  She zaps the bar code.  You give her two euro and she hands you the change.  You say “thank you”.    She still hasn’t said a word!

I’ve been going into the same corner shop for years.  It’s changed ownership a few times.  Two or three part-timers take turns serving.  The other girls will pass the time of day with you.  They might talk about something mundane like the weather.  We can always find something to say about that.  If there’s a few people waiting in front, you might hear that someone has passed away.  You might hear “but he was always like that” and wonder was he the life and soul of the party, a skin-flint, a generous soul.  You’ll never know because a mobile phone rings, and that’s the end of that conversation. Occasionally you might hear about a break-in.  If the owners were in the house.  How long it took the Garda to arrive.  It can be a nice meeting place for the elderly locals.  It’s near a bus stop. Handy for change for the bus. It’s even gone continental, and has a table and chairs outside.

The corner shop is great for the small things, like milk, the paper, a loaf of bread.  I can bring my dog for a walk at the same time.  It’s safe to leave her outside the shop for the few minutes.  She sits where I can see her through the glass door, and she can see me.

Lately, the shop was closed for a few days.  Shutters down.  Finally it was open again.  As I entered the shop, I noticed the counter was empty. Previously, there was only a gap for the assistant to serve.  Trays of chocolate bars, sweets, papers etc., would have covered the whole counter. This time, many of the shelves were empty.  It reminded me of food shortages in Eastern European countries some years back.  Miss Congeniality was behind the counter.  “I’m glad to see you’re open again” I said, smiling, and genuinely pleased.  “Have you any mass cards”?  She explained that no, they hadn’t any mass cards yet.  They were still waiting for more stock. Were my eyes deceiving me, or did she smile?  I realised that, yes, she had actually smiled.  If I were a gambler, I’d put on a pound to a penny that things would soon revert to normal, and it would be business as usual, in more ways than one.  I hope I’m wrong.

Josephine Nolan