This morning had an uterly lunatic conversation with the guy in our new corner shop. I arranged to leave £10 behind the till so that I can go in on a Saturday morning and collect newspapers without paying for them, as it's the Sabbath, and you're not supposed to spend money. Then I bought some bin-bags and The Guardian, and he only charged me for the bags. When I asked why, he said "it's a newspaper". I tried - I suspect in vain - that it's not that I can't pay for newspapers, it's that I can't handle money on a Saturday. I asked him if he had a religion (trying to find some common ground to work from), and he was extremely nervous about admitting he's a Muslim, but it turns out he's not very frum (religious) so he didn't know what I meant anyway. I think we got it right in the end, but it'll be a surprise tomorrow to see what happens.
Reminds of a true story that happened in my own life (said in appropriately Radio 2 daytime voice). 1991, I'm living in Singapore, and I tried in vain, over a period of weeks, to have the same conversation with two Malay guys in the local shop - could I leave money with them to pay for newspapers in advance. We just couldn't communicate - I didn't know much Malay, and eventually I gave up.
Went on a short trip over Chinese New Year to Sumatra (whole separate story) and my Mum, in typical Jewish-mother-fashion, got worried that she hadn't heard from me. When I got back to my office straight from the airport a week later, I walked in, and the whole open-plan office looked up and said "phone your Mother!". So I went home to leave my stuff, and as I walked up to my block, the two little Malay guys, who the previous week had spoken no English at all, come running out of the next-door building, shouting "phone your Mother!" I should have got her to organise the newspapers.
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