Know your onions

I was going to the co-op and as I walked past Boz the grocer he saw me and waved. ‘’Got those white onions your missus wanted” he said with a big grin. So of course I went in and he bagged some up for me.

Boz is called Boz because he came over from Bosnia when he was young to escape the fighting out there. His accent now is indefinable Home Counties barrowboy, booming as befits a man built like a bear but always affable and straight out of the market stalls. He knows his business and he knows his customers and will often give children free pieces of fruit; I’m pretty certain he is the genuine article rather than just a canny entrepreneur. He asked me how the decorating was going. I think he really likes to talk.

I felt like I knew my onions today at work, and was much in demand. But I also had headaches and felt tired. The trouble with experience is that it comes with age, but age comes with its own problems. Oh to be young and wise ...