AN EXTRACT FROM A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S BREAM

(a book now so overdue as to be seen by some as a mere fiction)

'Dear Diary - it says in you that today is Lammas Day.  Whatever can it mean?'

Derek had bought his diary in Mrs Dace's Corner Shop.  It was a Trunch Women's Institute diary, with lots of useful information including a list of embroidery stitches, a conversion table from groats to hectares, and a map of the village in 1904.

After breakfast Derek went to the Corner shop for some peppermints, and to ask if anyone knew what Lammas might be.  But before he could open his mouth Mrs Dace said "That'll be one and fourpence-ha'penny, dear, and it's a cross-quarter day".

Well, Derek was startled.

"Now", said Mrs Dace; "Will there be anything else besides the peppermints and the razor blades?"

Well, now Derek was even more startled.  Because he did need some razor blades, but he'd forgotten about them.

In a village shop you have to be good at knowing what people want, because they're forever leaving their shopping lists at home.  So over the years Mrs Dace learnt to know what people meant when they asked for "a thingumy, 2 whoosits, and a quarter of you-know-what".

Lammas Day, by the way, was the day when Lammas Lands that had been let to individuals during the summer reverted to the community.

So as Derek left the shop he found himself amidst a mass of animals, moving up and down the street.  Waiting for the traffic to clear he flicked through his diary again.  As well as daily mottos such as "A pleasure shared is a pleasure halved" and "A little bit of pain never hurt anyone", it also featured a monthly picture of a member of the Allotment Association posing naked.  Not completely naked, of course.  Their modesty was saved by strategically placed produce.  August featured Mr Pike with some of his crop.  But somehow, thought Derek, that pair of gooseberries and a cucumber only served to make matters worse.

Sid:  "Mrs Dace was always very sharp with figures, ever since she found out she'd undercharged Cecil Cockle a farthing in 1943.  She never forgave herself for that.  And she was also very good at knowing what it was people wanted from the shop.  Well, you have to be in a village shop, 'cos people are forever coming out without their shopping lists.  So over the years she learnt to add up quick and know what people meant when they asked for a thingumy.  So all you had to do was walk in and she'd tell you what you wanted and how much it cost.  If you had a weekly delivery you didn't even have to send in a list.  The boy would bring it round on his bike with the bill."