By the end of last Saturday, despite the best efforts of sunscreen, hat AND parasol, my freckles had broken out. My forehead, nose, cheeks and forearms are a canvas of little ginger dots. I personally love having freckles, although I know some people detest them. They do have the adverse(?) effect of making me look… younger.
After the fete on Saturday, we needed a few bits for the cupboards. We stopped in Harborne, and I ran into Sainsbury’s Local to grab cereal, oats, washing up liquid and a bottle of wine. Not wanting to scare the locals, I had removed my hat and gloves, folded away my parasol, released my hair into the wild curls this up-do always creates and donned my sunglasses – I looked almost “normal”.
There were two cashiers on, one lad, one lass, and when my turn came, it was the lad who was free to serve me. He scanned my items, then turned to me with a smile.
“Have you got any ID?”
You can imagine my reaction. I burst into laughter, then became VERY flustered. See, I didn’t even have my wallet with me. Blustering something about being 32 (which I’m not – I’m 31!) I turned out what I had, blushing a deep crimson.
“I’ve got a debit card and my National Trust membership card – if you can find an under 18 with a National Trust membership, I’ll be surprised!”
The cashier seemed to find this hilarious and began apologising profusely, saying how young I looked and that it must be the freckles or the curls or something. Perhaps by this point he’d clocked the crows feet on the corners of my eyes and mouth (a sign of ageing I rather like – I’ll never understand why people get upset by laughter lines!) but he was suddenly far more inclined to sell me alcohol! As he took my money he twinkled at me and said:
“I’ve made your day. haven’t I?!”
And do you know, he had!