Roger's Relics

Less than an hour after I'd left a message on Roger Reynolds' answerphone on Saturday evening I received a call from him asking to meet me on Sunday afternoon which I duly did. After letting Eleanor know his address and telephone number for safety I met him at the closed shop. It's a strange place filled with second hand treasures from a number of periods plus a large clothing section.

Roger himself was a large, portly gentleman wearing a mustard coloured safari jacket and slightly mis-matched pair of lovat cords. He sported a rather obvious ginger wig on his hair which I'm sure would have moved if I'd offered it a saucer of milk. He was avuncular and jovial though and I was made to feel most welcome. Whilst he was brewing up a 'proper' cup of tea using tea leaves, a china tea service and a plate of garibaldi biscuits he started to tell me a little about himself.

Apparently he was a widower, his wife Sylvie having died a year ago of a terminal case of Scrofula which Queen Elizabeth II refused to lower herself to cure. He'd had a varied career, having served in the SAS for many years with distinction which led to him receiving a vast array of medals which were unfortunately stolen by a visiting vagabond back in 1987. This than led to him starting his first business which was a travelling burger van which failed when his wig fell into a vat of candyfloss and scared the Mayor during a school fete. His second business as an independent slacks salesman also ground to a halt during the nationwide polyester famine of 1998. He mentioned a series of other businesses but I'd lost the will to live by then and feigned interest in the collection of spoons which filled one of the walls.

The upshot is that Roger showed me the flat which was part-furnished, airy and light and at £500pcm an absolute steal. I provisionally accepted which gave Roger time to draw up a formal contract and check out my references (Eleanor and James Pincett, my head of Division). I also stated I'd be happy to help out in the shop, where needed as I had absolutely no social life to speak of and enjoyed the company of the general public.