Welcome back, devoted readers. Some weeks, this blog is serious, others not. Usually, though, there’s an underlying theme, perhaps something I’ve learned and want to share with you, some inspiration or encouragement. Not this week. It’s all about the giggles, I fear. No philosophising or musing.
A little while ago, I drove up to the pretty village of Gislingham, near the Suffolk/Norfolk border to visit my dear friend Di and her husband who have recently moved there from Essex (hooray!) We had a fabulous time, as we always do. One of the highlights for me, oddly, was the very lovely liquid soap and hand cream Di had recently purchased from a well-known chain of supermarkets with German origins. I am a bit funny about smells. Fruit’s generally a no (grapefruit being the exception), anything heavy or syrupy gets the old heave-ho and in fact, it’s quite hard to please me on the fragrance front. However, this particular product had me washing and moisturising my hands not once, but twice, and sniffing them appreciatively afterwards.
The label on the side of the bottle was fairly uncompromising. “No. 1. Lime, Basil & Mandarin” it read, in bold black letters. Making a mental note to snap some up from my own local branch as soon as humanly possible, reluctantly I bade farewell to my friends and drove home, smelling my hands every time I stopped at a traffic light or T-junction. A bit weird, I know. But then, as I think we’ve all worked out by now, I am.
On the way back from gymnastics in Ipswich on a Thursday night, it has become my practice to nip into the said German supermarket with my daughter to pick up a few bits. Pots of custard and jelly for lunch boxes, oddly flavoured crisps, stuff from that weird middle aisle they have there. On this occasion, I was on the hunt for some Number.1. I looked in the obvious places, but naturally it wasn’t there. Eventually, nestled between two strange bedfellows (toilet cleaner and scuba diving equipment, let’s say), I discovered the range. I let out a cry of excitement, but then discovered that my particular branch of the well-known supermarket had decided to dispense with liquid soap and moisturiser in favour of candles and those fancy-schmancy scented reeds you put in the loo when people are coming round.
“I discovered the range. I let out a cry of excitement!”
I’m a philosophical kind of girl, so I contented myself with sniffing the candles and making appreciative, “mmm” noises. I filled my basket with candles and reeds (because at these prices, who wouldn’t?) As I did so, I noticed a second fragrance, calling itself No.3. Pomegranate. I checked it out but rejected it as being unsuitable. And that was that.
My life was made immeasurably better by having the candles dotted around the house. They look really posh and expensive, but in fact come in at under £4. In half term, I met up with my lovely cousin for a muddy walk around a field and a picnic in the back of the van. As the children were chatting, I shared the exciting news about my candle find. She too is a devoted fan of this particular German supermarket. We amused ourselves by imagining how funny it would be if the manufacturers filled in the gap between No.1 and No.3 with – well, a No.2. What fragrance would that be, we mused, between loud and unladylike snorts of laughter. We agreed that no-one in their right mind would market a range of scented homeware with No.2 written on the side in big black letters. It would be like poor old Robert Wagner in Austen Powers 2. No-one wants to be Number Two.
Imagine my surprise, therefore, dear readers, when I paid a visit on Tuesday and found that they had indeed marketed a No.2 range of fragrances. Once I’d finished laughing, I took pictures to prove my point. I sniffed the No.2 (as it very much were) and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting. I didn’t buy it though. Can you imagine the hilarious misunderstandings that would ensue?
“Has anyone seen my No.2?”
“Who left that No.2 on the floor?”
“What is that lovely fragrance in the loo? Oh, hang on …..”
And that’s it for this week. I’m writing this on the last day before lockdown in England. We don’t know how long it will last or how we’ll cope. I suppose the reason I wrote this today is to make you laugh. I hope it did. We need to read silly things sometimes, and today of all days, with all the goings-on over the pond and the spectre of Covid-19 dogging our footsteps, a jolly good chortle about a shelf covered in No.2s is just what the doctor ordered.
Stay safe.