Yesterday Robyn and I were in a pound shop in East Ham called
Manny's Two. It is a very cramped shop with many objects piled up high and narrow walkways between the veritable
Aladdin's cave. As Robyn and I were picked our way through this treasure trove of delights we spied an elderly eastern European woman. She had a sour,
wizened face and she grimaced at us with contempt of our age and stunning good looks (we are a handsome couple you see). Anyway we were going opposite ways down the walkways until we got to a 90degree bend. Then, suddenly, almost slowly, a stack of pots, pans and crockery about 4 feet high started toppling- set in motion by the old lady as Robyn (who was the closest) was at least 1metre away. We both lunged towards the declining mass of kitchenware. We just about caught some of it but it was too late; the
initial topple had triggered a domino effect round the store. Half of the central area was crashing down around Robyn and I (strangely enough not the old lady). We struggled to catch the falling kitchenware and housewares but it was a largely futile attempt. Pots crashed onto the floor, saucepans clattered onto
cheese graters and lemon
zesters toppled casserole dishes. After half of the central stack had fallen there was a sudden, uneasy silence. The woman scowled at us; she may as well have pointed a finger. But she broke the silence by muttering a couple of sentences of a Russian-like language before turning tail and disappearing the other way down the aisle. Robyn and I tried fruitlessly to pick up the merchandise off of the floor. 2 male shopkeepers were bearing down on us in seconds. Robyn prompted me towards the door. We escaped Pompeii and burst out onto the street laughing.
We only wanted a small plastic basket.