Post by michael on Nov 13, 2015 18:51:36 GMT
Sweet Charity
To some people a charity shop is a place of last resort. They might want something to wear that is reasonably smart, comfortable and yet cheap. Or they may be looking for an inexpensive paperback novel that can be discarded once it has been read. For Tami it was a place of endless amazement on the things people wanted to be rid of, but others would pay good money to take away.
She had plenty of opportunities to observe their behaviour, for her Mum worked as a volunteer 2 or 3 days a week at the local charity shop and, during the school holidays, Tami might have to spend some hours in the shop, either helping to sort out the useable clothes from the unusable (ugh!) ones or keeping the shop tidy. She didn’t mind tidying the shop because it gave her the chance to overhear the comments of the shoppers.
“Just look at this! I can’t imagine anyone wanting to wear something like that!” Or,
“What a bit of luck, that is just what I wanted”, sometimes for the same article.
It was while she was rearranging the mugs and glasses one day that she thought she heard a quiet voice; “Psst ! Over here, behind you!”. She looked around, but no one was near her and then the voice came again, “It’s Tami, isn’t it? Do you want to see me?” Tami didn’t know how to reply, so she simply nodded her head, and to her astonishment, a little figure, barely 4 inches high, began to materialise on the shelf before her. The form was wispy, but Tami could make out a gossamer gown and what looked like flowing locks of silver hair.
“Who are you ? What are you?” whispered a bewildered Tami.
“You might say that I’m a sort of sprite for want of a better description” the figure replied, “But you can call me Sylvie”.
“But what are you doing here?” Tami wanted to know.
“I, and others like me, are the result of all the memories surrounding the articles you see around you. Some acquire lots of memories and can appear to children such as yourself, whilst others, like that saucepan over there, have hardly any memories associated with them so they have to remain silent”.
“But which article do you belong to?” asked Tami.
“I am with this cushion embroidered with a picture of a cat. It may look a bit old and worn, but it has had a fascinating life”.
“Are you going to tell me about it?” Tami was really interested by the idea.
“I would like to do that” Sylvie told her, “but I think someone is coming our way, so I had better disappear”.
“How am I going to be able to see you again?” whispered Tami in an anxious tone.
“We will have a little secret password. If you are sure no one is around, just say
Oh spirit of the cushioned cat, can you meet me for a chat?
And then, if I am not busy, I will re-appear”.
“That is a really rubbish rhyme” commented Tami.
“Alright then, clever clogs, you try and think of something to rhyme with embroidered” snapped Sylvie and disappeared with a faint pop!
Tami felt that the first meeting had not concluded as well as it might have done, but over the next few days she tried again and thankfully Sylvie reappeared in a happy mood.
She told Tami some of her memories, sad ones as well as good ones, and also introduced her to the spirit of a painting of a sailing ship. This time the spirit was definitely male. He didn’t appear, but the voice was that of an old Devon man.
However, there was something which puzzled Tami and she put it to Sylvie one day.
“I think of you as a fairy, but you don’t have any wings. Why is that?”
“It is simply because I am not a fairy. I am a sprite, or a spirit, whatever. I don’t need wings, I’m not going to fly around the place. I stay close to my memory source; I am happy that way”.
Tami thought that it showed a certain lack of ambition on the part of Sylvie, but she wasn’t going to push the subject.
A few days later she was in the shop, this time with her brother. Being a few years older than her, he was not interested in charity shops, but occasionally he would drop in to see if there were any T shirts with dubious wording upon them. Since the shop was quiet, Tami thought it a good time to speak to Sylvie again. She spoke the rhyme: Oh spirit of the cushioned cat, can you meet me for a chat? but there was no response. She tried again and still Sylvie did not appear. She was just about to try for a third and final time when rather flustered Sylvie did appear, brushing back her hair with one hand.
“Sorry for the delay” she apologised, “I was having a poo.”
Tami was surprised, ”If you exist solely on memories, how can you have a poo ?”
“Ah, you don’t understand” said Sylvie, “what we refer to as a poo is just a little gust of wind, sometimes green, done for comfort”.
“But that is not a poo, that is a f..”
“It is a poo because that is what we say it is” retorted Sylvie angrily.
Tami could not help laughing as she imagined the gossamer figure of Sylvie being blown along the shelf by a gust of green gas.
“Why are you laughing at me? You are a very rude little girl!” Sylvie was really annoyed.
“I’m sorry” apologised Tami “It is just that I never expected to meet a farting fairy”.
“I am not f.f..farting and I am not a f.f..fairy!” stormed Sylvie and she disappeared with quite a loud POP!
Tami’s brother came wandering over to her. “I don’t think you should be chatting to fairies. Someone might catch you at it and then there would be trouble explaining it”.
“But you don’t believe in fairies! And anyway, who says I was chatting to a fairy?” Her brother pointed to the ceiling.
“You see that rather elaborate light fitting? It actually conceals a mirror so that anyone at the till can watch to see if anyone is shop-lifting and I distinctly saw you talking to a fairy”.
Tami was shocked. “You won’t say anything, will you? I wasn’t doing any harm but people would not understand”.
“I’m not saying anything” her brother replied. “People would not believe me even if I did try and tell them. It will be just between us”.
Tami thanked her brother, but at the same time she was thinking that she should explain to Sylvie why they must stop meeting.
The next time Tami was in the shop she went over to the spot where she always met Sylvie. She was surprised and a little alarmed not to see the old cushion in its usual place. She asked one of the volunteers “What has happened to the cushion with the cat on it? It has not been thrown out, has it?”
“Oh no” she was told, “a lady came in a couple of days ago and bought it. She said she wanted it for her cat. She said he was getting a bit old and incontinent and it would be just right for him”.
Tami was relieved that it had not been thrown out with the rubbish. Hopefully Sylvie would have a new home and nice new experiences. Or would she ?
To some people a charity shop is a place of last resort. They might want something to wear that is reasonably smart, comfortable and yet cheap. Or they may be looking for an inexpensive paperback novel that can be discarded once it has been read. For Tami it was a place of endless amazement on the things people wanted to be rid of, but others would pay good money to take away.
She had plenty of opportunities to observe their behaviour, for her Mum worked as a volunteer 2 or 3 days a week at the local charity shop and, during the school holidays, Tami might have to spend some hours in the shop, either helping to sort out the useable clothes from the unusable (ugh!) ones or keeping the shop tidy. She didn’t mind tidying the shop because it gave her the chance to overhear the comments of the shoppers.
“Just look at this! I can’t imagine anyone wanting to wear something like that!” Or,
“What a bit of luck, that is just what I wanted”, sometimes for the same article.
It was while she was rearranging the mugs and glasses one day that she thought she heard a quiet voice; “Psst ! Over here, behind you!”. She looked around, but no one was near her and then the voice came again, “It’s Tami, isn’t it? Do you want to see me?” Tami didn’t know how to reply, so she simply nodded her head, and to her astonishment, a little figure, barely 4 inches high, began to materialise on the shelf before her. The form was wispy, but Tami could make out a gossamer gown and what looked like flowing locks of silver hair.
“Who are you ? What are you?” whispered a bewildered Tami.
“You might say that I’m a sort of sprite for want of a better description” the figure replied, “But you can call me Sylvie”.
“But what are you doing here?” Tami wanted to know.
“I, and others like me, are the result of all the memories surrounding the articles you see around you. Some acquire lots of memories and can appear to children such as yourself, whilst others, like that saucepan over there, have hardly any memories associated with them so they have to remain silent”.
“But which article do you belong to?” asked Tami.
“I am with this cushion embroidered with a picture of a cat. It may look a bit old and worn, but it has had a fascinating life”.
“Are you going to tell me about it?” Tami was really interested by the idea.
“I would like to do that” Sylvie told her, “but I think someone is coming our way, so I had better disappear”.
“How am I going to be able to see you again?” whispered Tami in an anxious tone.
“We will have a little secret password. If you are sure no one is around, just say
Oh spirit of the cushioned cat, can you meet me for a chat?
And then, if I am not busy, I will re-appear”.
“That is a really rubbish rhyme” commented Tami.
“Alright then, clever clogs, you try and think of something to rhyme with embroidered” snapped Sylvie and disappeared with a faint pop!
Tami felt that the first meeting had not concluded as well as it might have done, but over the next few days she tried again and thankfully Sylvie reappeared in a happy mood.
She told Tami some of her memories, sad ones as well as good ones, and also introduced her to the spirit of a painting of a sailing ship. This time the spirit was definitely male. He didn’t appear, but the voice was that of an old Devon man.
However, there was something which puzzled Tami and she put it to Sylvie one day.
“I think of you as a fairy, but you don’t have any wings. Why is that?”
“It is simply because I am not a fairy. I am a sprite, or a spirit, whatever. I don’t need wings, I’m not going to fly around the place. I stay close to my memory source; I am happy that way”.
Tami thought that it showed a certain lack of ambition on the part of Sylvie, but she wasn’t going to push the subject.
A few days later she was in the shop, this time with her brother. Being a few years older than her, he was not interested in charity shops, but occasionally he would drop in to see if there were any T shirts with dubious wording upon them. Since the shop was quiet, Tami thought it a good time to speak to Sylvie again. She spoke the rhyme: Oh spirit of the cushioned cat, can you meet me for a chat? but there was no response. She tried again and still Sylvie did not appear. She was just about to try for a third and final time when rather flustered Sylvie did appear, brushing back her hair with one hand.
“Sorry for the delay” she apologised, “I was having a poo.”
Tami was surprised, ”If you exist solely on memories, how can you have a poo ?”
“Ah, you don’t understand” said Sylvie, “what we refer to as a poo is just a little gust of wind, sometimes green, done for comfort”.
“But that is not a poo, that is a f..”
“It is a poo because that is what we say it is” retorted Sylvie angrily.
Tami could not help laughing as she imagined the gossamer figure of Sylvie being blown along the shelf by a gust of green gas.
“Why are you laughing at me? You are a very rude little girl!” Sylvie was really annoyed.
“I’m sorry” apologised Tami “It is just that I never expected to meet a farting fairy”.
“I am not f.f..farting and I am not a f.f..fairy!” stormed Sylvie and she disappeared with quite a loud POP!
Tami’s brother came wandering over to her. “I don’t think you should be chatting to fairies. Someone might catch you at it and then there would be trouble explaining it”.
“But you don’t believe in fairies! And anyway, who says I was chatting to a fairy?” Her brother pointed to the ceiling.
“You see that rather elaborate light fitting? It actually conceals a mirror so that anyone at the till can watch to see if anyone is shop-lifting and I distinctly saw you talking to a fairy”.
Tami was shocked. “You won’t say anything, will you? I wasn’t doing any harm but people would not understand”.
“I’m not saying anything” her brother replied. “People would not believe me even if I did try and tell them. It will be just between us”.
Tami thanked her brother, but at the same time she was thinking that she should explain to Sylvie why they must stop meeting.
The next time Tami was in the shop she went over to the spot where she always met Sylvie. She was surprised and a little alarmed not to see the old cushion in its usual place. She asked one of the volunteers “What has happened to the cushion with the cat on it? It has not been thrown out, has it?”
“Oh no” she was told, “a lady came in a couple of days ago and bought it. She said she wanted it for her cat. She said he was getting a bit old and incontinent and it would be just right for him”.
Tami was relieved that it had not been thrown out with the rubbish. Hopefully Sylvie would have a new home and nice new experiences. Or would she ?