And what size would you like?
The girl in the shoe shop beamed at me as she said this. She was young and stonkingly pretty, dressed in what looked to be shredded Christmas crackers and boots that could survive a moon walking.
She is a size one, ta.
I looked down at the little lady who was jiggling about like an ADHD mentalist looking at the vast range of shoes on display in the shop.
We had gone shoe shopping for trainers for the Little Lady. She was very excited as she loved getting new shoes and almost instantly fell in love with some crazy-looking blue things with chunky heels that lit up when you walked. A size one, your feet look bigger than that! Shoe-girl laughed like water gurgling down a drain and gave me a playful shove. I grinned whilst resisting the impulse to drop an elbow on her for invading my personal space. Haha, aye. A one would be a tiny bit too small. Oh, I bet it would. Shoe-girl said playfully and eyed me up and down as if I weren't old enough to have fathered her mother. She tossed her hair and headed off to the back to fetch the required shoes. In mere minutes she was back and unboxing the gaudy light-up trainers that I was absolutely certain would horrify the Good Lady. Whilst she knelt and deftly tied the laces on the Little Lady's feet she looked up at me brightly. Were you out at the weekend? She chirped, her eyes fastened to me like rivets. Erm, no. Quiet one this weekend. Fucking hell. This was like my younger days where I felt the need to say I had been clubbing in blah blah blah and had been mashed out of my tits listening to DJ Spunk or whoever. Which would certainly have been more exciting than telling her I had spent the last two days stripping wallpaper in my bedroom. Would you like to stand up for me and see how they feel? Shoe-girl addressed this to the Little Lady and I was glad that her laser-like attention had been removed for a moment. The Little Lady did a funky dance then jumped up and down tenteen times. I love them! I love them!! They are amazing!! Can I get them, Daddy? She boinged about with an energy that I wished I could bottle. Aye aye. Come on, let's go pay for them. Both Shoe-girl and the Little Lady happily clapped their hands in unison and we were led off to the till to part with all the moneys. Did you know if you open a loyalty account with us you get a fifteen per cent discount on your first order? I just need your email address. Oh aye, fifteen per cent? That would do nicely. I gave her my sensible email account and not the boomykingofthemadfuckers one. So, you just need to give me the code in the welcome email you get. She looked expectantly at me. Oh yeah, two ticks. Just get my phone out. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stabbed my fingerprint on it to open it. It opened on my hive feed and I tapped the home button. For a microsecond, I hesitated as I tried to remember which direction to swipe for the screen with the email shortcut. It's your email, see? To my absolute horror, Shoe-Girl's finger pounced onto my phone screen and swiped it left then right, finding my email before stabbing at the icon. Uhm?! I tried to speak through my flabbergastation that she would actually touch my phone when the unspeakable happened. It should be right at the top. Ah here we are. Shoe-Girl deftly swiped my phone out from my astonished hand and flicked at the mail from the shoe company, tapping the code from the email into her screen and handing me the phone back. That will be thirty-four pounds, please! She smiled at me as if I weren't a geriatric old man that she had had to help with his own phone. I closed my open mouth of astonishment, paid and left with the Little Lady. Can we get ice cream? The Little Lady skipped along happily with her new shoes. Erm, yeah, why not. I numbly responded. Wasnt it really nice of that girl to help you with your phone? The Little Lady giggled as we walked toward the ice cream place. My head was still reeling from Shoe-Girl's phone jacking. I opened my mouth to tell the Little Lady that it wasn't really nice and in fact, I would be going back there to set Shoe-Girl on fire and throw her in a bin. Yes... Very nice.
trainers = sneakers in case you were wondering. If what I believe to be a "sneaker" is actually correct!