A) A Shopping Trip

Edward was fed up. He wished Denise wouldn't read these outlandish
recipes. His stomach liked good plain English food, none of this faffy
foreign stuff. And it was worse having to buy the ingredients himself
because she was at the Kindest Kut getting her hair done. He felt like
a condemned man plugging in the electric chair. And it was
embarrassing, too. Last week he'd spent ages wandering round the floral
stand because he thought hummus was something to do with gardening.
He'd gone home with a bottle of Baby Bio in the end.

This week Denise had made quite sure he'd known gorgonzola was a kind
of cheese. "And DON'T get that shrink wrapped rubbish, get it from the
counter, so it can BREATHE!" It was alright for the flipping cheese,
Edward thought now, trying to hold his breath. What about HIM? and he
KNEW everyone was staring at him, wondering when he'd last had a bath.
AND he wouldn't get a wink of sleep tonight. Even good old cheddar gave
him indigestion : he'd have nightmares for a week after eating THIS
stuff. Delia Smith had a lot to answer for. He reached the last item on
his list: air freshener x 1. He took six from the shelf and opened
five, arranging them round the cheese.

Increasingly desperate announcements came over the tannoy for "All
trained checkout staff" That, if he was not mistaken, meant there'd be
queues as far as the eye could see. Arriving briskly he found this was
indeed the case, and felt sightly smug. After several years of doing
the shopping he was beginning to know the enemy. He stalked along the
row of tills, eyes narrowed like a... like a... bird of prey...DO birds
of prey narrow their eyes? He tried to remember from that time he and
Denise had gone to a Falconry display, but got stuck on the bird
dropping landing on the shoulder of his best tweed jacket. He almost
missed till 34 where only one person waited. Edward's moustache
bristled. His canary yellow cardigan glowed. Thrusting forward his
chin, he charged.

Shakey but triumphant, he stood panting for a few seconds, then,
slightly peeved no one else appeared immediately in his wake he turned
his attention, as would Sherlock Holmes, to the contents of the trolley
in front.

To his suprise it consisted entirely of Coco Pops, stacked so high he
couldn'r see the trolley's owner. He pondered the meaning of this for a
while, then light dawned. Must be preggers! He remembered when Denise
had been having Roger, she'd been crazy for cheesy footballs. Edward
was keen on those himself. Unfortunately, Denise's passion hadn't
lasted long and cheesey footballs were all too soon banished from her
state of the art kitchen, to be replaced with polenta (first cousin to
latex) and pesto (what was wrong with ketchup, for goodness sake?) and
other foreign rubbish. He kept his own little supply of snacks in the
attic, along with his drinks collection and a small fridge, for the
ice. Denise thought he was playing with the model trainset she and
Roger had given him when he retired.

His mind was dragged back from happy thoughts of gin and tonic with
Raymond from next door by a whiff of gorgonzola, and he noticed the
checkout woman was staring at him, with a look of horror. She seemed
vaguely familiar so he tried to be friendly "My wife doesn't
understand..." He pointed down at the trolley "I wish she'd come with
me" He smiled apologetically, squinted at her name badge "Fay" Fay
thought, panicking, "It's that man who was chasing me round the floral
stand last week" and ducked down behind the growing pile of Coco Pops
packets on the checkout belt. Edward took the opportunity to wave his
hands vigorously over the open air fresheners, then realised with a
start that he was now visible to the customer infront, who had at last
finished unloading their trolley and was giving Edward a curious look.
It wasn't a woman at all, but a slight, short hippyish looking man.
Suddenly he seemed to shimmer under Edward's gaze. Flipping Sodbury!
Edward stopped staring at the man to glare accusingly at the carefully
wrapped gorgonzola which he was sure gloated at him from his trolley.
If that flipping cheese had this effect just by being smelled what
would happen when he ate it?

He'd have to have a word with Denise. Not in the car when she was
telling him all the gossip she'd gathered at the Salon. When they got
home. Not when she was taking her coat off, of course. Later. But
Veronica and Raymond were coming round. After they'd gone. But what if
there was something Denise wanted to watch on the cooking chanel? She
hated to be interrupted then. Maybe when they were having tea? But she
did the crossword then. And before he knew where he was it would be too
late : she'd be all ready with the latest cooking magazine open on her
sparkling worktop, and he could just see the look in her eyes if he
said, then, that he'd really rather have chops for supper. Edward's
shoulders sunk. His moustache drooped. His cardigan took on a sallow
tinge. He began to wish he'd not hurried to find a short queue after
all : it was illogical, he knew, but it seemed to bring his moment of
tortellini torture that bit closer

Ruah looked sympathetically at the man behind him in the queue. He
found his magic curtailed in this strange land, also. All the other
seemed to have achieved was an appauling smell. Ruah wondered what the
other had been trying to conjure. He hadn't recognised the hand
movements to the charm : maybe it was unique to this baffling place. He
couldn't wait to get home to his treehouse.

When his Chief (may his name be forever under the tail of a bullock
with stomach problems) on the suggestion of his wisest druid (may his
nights be serenaded by wolves with relationship problems) had ordered
his least wise druid to travel to a far land (by means of an
experimental blanket he'd been working on) in order to bring back
something to trade for this axehead the Pheonecian had just happened to
have brought Ruah had thought it would be a one off. He'd brought back
a load of different sorts of packets, and retreated to his treehouse to
read a fascinating parchment called Innovations, which by some
wonderful chance had been left in the bottom of his metal cart. Ruah
had always felt Druiding was not what he had been born for, that he had
it in him to be a trader, like the Pheonecian. He just didn't have the
necessary selling skills. If he said something cost four horses, and
the buyer said they only had three chickens, he'd agree two chickens
becuase he didn't like chickens. But this "magazine"! It was full of
the most weird and wonderful things he'd never heard of. If he brought
"A New Improved Fluffball Remover - makes your pullovers good as new!"
to the village, he knew he'd have them eating out of his hand (not the
chickens, the women. They'd be fighting to give him their valuables.
He'd not even need to open his mouth)

He realised the woman at the moving table was saying something, and he
smiled in what he hoped was an ungullible, no flies on me sort of way.
He'd had trouble with his haggling the last time, at a different
trading place. He'd no idea what his purchases had cost, but every time
he offered more gold the woman had got more outraged, gabbling
something about visa cards. In the end he'd just left his bag of gold
infront of her, wrapped himself in his magic blanket and gone.

Unfortunately, one of the purchases from his initial expedition had
been Coco Pops. And the Pheonecian (may his name be forever cast on the
bottom of the midden heap) had decided they were "interesting" and
"Would the Chief like to look at this New Improved Axe Head, guaranted
to remove..." And so enamoured of the axehead was Ruah's Chief (may he
be forever tickled by donkey ears - that really soft bit on the tips)
that he'd ordered Ruah to return to this savage place and bring back as
many packets of Coco Pops as were to be had.

Ruah had tried to explain that they were very rare, there might not BE
any more Coco Pops in the whole land, or even the world (Ruah was not
infact quite sure where this was, or even WHEN : he had accidentally
spilt some of his mead (for medicinal purposes) on it and he thought
this might have effected its sense of direction

However, the Chief wouldn't be dissuaded. Ruah wasn't at all sure that
what he'd been given to pay for the accursed Coco Pops (may they turn
to chicken poo in the mouth of whoever the Pheonecian sold them to, and
may that person have lots of over enthusiastic warriors ready to avenge
such a slight) would be sufficient. Muttering desperate opening spells
under his breath he struggled with carrier bags, stuffing packets in as
quick as he could. At last the horrendous beeping noise stopped. He
looked up to find the woman watching him expectantly.

Fay repeated the amount due, then asked "Have you got a store card?"
She smiled hopefully at the customer with the shy, sad eyes, aware the
man behind was getting restless.

Edward looked at his watch. Denise would be ready soon. She hated to be
kept waiting. Maybe this chap hadn't been shopping before, didn't know
the procedure. Edward prided himself on having all his cards ready at
the right time, signed his slips before they could even offer him a
pen. He gave the checkout woman a conspiratorial some people don't know
anything look and shouted helpfully at the man "Store Card! HAVE YOU
GOT A STORE CARD?"

Ruah wondered if his multilingual spell was wearing off, but he thought
he was getting the gist. It was just unfortunate he hadn't considered
the possibility of stalks being a necessary item of barter. Let alone
hard stalks. and what sort? He shook his head. The magician looked at
him pityingly and pulled a small thin rectangle from his robe. Ruah
waited for him to change it into a stalk, and felt a little smug when
the magician, whom he was beginning to find patronising, after waving
the rectangle about in the air between them for a bit in what was
obviously intended to be an impressive display of skill, was forced to
put it away again, untransmogrified.

Fay tapped a button. "Ok, how would you like to pay, Sir?" "This is it"
thought Ruah "When I find out if the Phoenecian knew what he was
doing". After some canny questioning of Ruah the Phoenecian had deduced
from Ruah's descriptions of the place that the inhabitants did not
appear to possess something which was available in abundance in his own
land, so they would be as rare and valuable to them as Coco Pops were
to his himself

Ruah attempted the confident smile of the Pheonecian and pulled the
donkey from his sleeve.

The woman didn't say "That'll do nicely" which for some reason he'd
been expecting. The donkey stood awkwardly on the conveyor belt,
chewing. Ruah was worried about that. It hadn't been chewing when it
had gone in there. He rummaged about in his sleeve. The magic blanket
was missing. Flipping Sodbury!