To Buy Or Not To Buy?

I consider it a fair assumption that many a young man’s business acumen started with the humble Pokémon card. 

Playground trading sessions, surreptitious classroom dealings and endless after school play-dates in search of the elusive ‘shiny one’.

Buying, swapping and selling slithers of paper, as though the countries’ economy depended on it.

As I overheard a rather disheveled looking businessman at the bus stop on Friday, I wondered whether he had graduated from the University of Pikachu?

“Buy it, just buy it,” businessman, “I need it ASAP. Stop making this an issue and please just get it.”

What did this businessman desperately need to buy? Was he about to close a massive stocks and shares deal? Add another five-bed to his property portfolio, perhaps? Or was after the latest Mulberry It-Bag, it is Mother’s Day in a week, after all. 

“I know I should’ve left you a note, but colud you please just pop out and get me some more soya milk?” businessman. 

Soya milk! Clearly not from the University of Pikachu – Pokémon cards were definitely lost on this young man.

  

  

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The Village…Character

Every village has its ‘characters’ and I think it’s fair to say they go a long way in providing familiarity – a comforting reassurance – to the place we call home. For example, for the past seven years I have become rather accustomed to the petite elderly man who busks on the high street every weekend. He covers any number of tracks from Green Day’s, Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) to Rod Stewart’s, Have I Told You Lately. Is he any good? Absolutely not, but his consistency and charming delivery make me feel at home.

The same can be said for my local florist; always wearing polka dots, never without a single bud in her top left buttonhole and her endearing catchphrase: “Beautiful blooms for your home, my dear,” gets me every time.

Having recently started a new job, I have a whole new high street to explore – new ‘characters’ to discover.

As I waited in line for my pre-work, Monday morning caffeine fix, the gentleman seated in the corner (whom I’ve noticed on a number of occasions) struck up a conversation with an incredibly smart commuter.

“What look are you going for with this suit, young man? A working class footballer?” village character.

“Ha, not quite,” red-faced commuter, “just trying to look like a respectable member of society.”

Good reply, I thought to myself, while sniggering behind my Metro.

“Excellent choice young man. I used to be one of those members of society, but then I like cocaine,” village character.

And with that, the entire queue of people – in complete unison – looked to the man in the corner, back to the red-faced commuter, then simply resumed their morning activities, as if this was a normal statement.

I was still absorbing what had just been disclosed, when the barista asked for my order. She sensed I was in a state of bemusement and offered her own sense of comfort to the rather surreal situation.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just one of our regulars, keeps us all entertained.”