Brizzol ladies , silver jewelry and purple broc.

The noise is loud the laughter is curing my hangover, good, the shop is slowly filling with lovely lovely ladies in hand knit jumpers, silver jewelry and Brizzol accents. Lovely lovely ladies drinking coffee and tea , perched on crates and stools cramming a corner with Brisol laughter and the shop full of love. Im loving it at last , paper shufflers can wait , the landlady is twitching with envy , eager to get back to her husband to report on the hippies in the shop, probably she thinks a gang of knitters here to spread the loose knit, hand knit way of life onto the uptight acrylic village jumpers she holds so dear. She clutches her pearls close to her throat and pulls her poly/wool M&S twin set (bought in the sale in 1995) to her breast and slides out beaten by the laughter of these lovely lovely ladies , Guardian readers the lot of them I can hear her mutter, comforted by the copy of the Daily Mail shes tucked in her knickers for safety.
Im loving it, actually this is the reason why I do this, the lovely lovely hand knit ladies raised my pulse yesterday over coffee, cake and chocolate stars and today they're doing it again. In between pots of tea and milkshakes the villagers look on with suspicion , half an eye on their change the other half on the glinting silver jewelry sipping tea in the corner.
My mind wanders again and Im in a French movie , Manon de source or even Chocolat, a small village the outsiders and the enraged locals. Colour !!! Thank goodness for colour, no drab grey parkas, navy fleeces, not a pair of stained polyester sweatpants on Brisol ladies. Reds, purple velvet bags,white hair, heather melange jumpers, white poppy's , no beige, no hand knitted Reebok here.
I've been running around, purple broccoli by the bag full, eggs by the dozen, bread by the bike load and endless pots of tea and coffee. The cakes sell well , its bloody amazing , people love my shop, a lovely lovely lady not from Brisol tells me its the best shop she's ever been in, thank you I say and inside I'm bursting , holding on with all my upbringing to stop myself from screaming out the door at my neighbours as they walk by loaded down with shit from Asda I want to scream at them "DO YOU KNOW THIS IS THE BEST SHOP THIS LOVELY LOVELY LADY NOT FROM BRIZZOL HAS EVER BEEN IN AND YOU ARSEHOLES DON"T USE IT, FUCK YOU"
I wonder if I m cut out for this pillar of the community malarky , I think I'm better at the pissed up in the corner , best be avoided sort of member of the community. He's ok a little bit odd , might bite but funny up to a point, best avoid or he might be honest.
The lovely lovely hand knit ladies have gone, we hugged and I'm encouraged to keep going. One day I'll have the landlords wife in a loose knit wooly with a trail of silver snails around her neck, never again to leave her trail of despair in my shop gain.

Thanks lovely lovely ladies from Brizzol, come back soon and bring me a pair of happy socks
xxxxx