The shop across the road looks like it sells a load of old tat, but it sure looks more appealing than trying and failing to put pen to paper. I down the last frothy dregs of my cappuccino, tuck my notebook and pen in my bag, and head out to kill some time.
The door jangles to announce my presence, and in seconds the shop owner appears before me with a wide grin stretched across his face.
“Looking for anything in particular?”
I shake my head. “Just browsing.”
I look at the shelves and take in the junk. Twee wooden figurines. Cheap plastic flowers arranged in even cheaper plastic vases. Cutesy signs with naff statements like God Bless This Mess and Dust is a Country Accent. Dachshund draught excluders with blue plaid bellies and cartoonish eyes. Floral aprons and floral tea towels and floral oven mitts and floral cushion covers and…
“Perhaps I can point you in the right direction,” the shop owner says, his megawatt grin not faltering for even a moment.