Put the Flags Out

The church are getting ready for the scarecrow festival this weekend. The lane is bedecked with bunting which looks very jolly.

Alfie and I ventured into Saffron Walden, had a look round the shops and had a coffee and a sandwich. On the way back we popped into Waitrose and,  in a moment of impetuousness, I suggested we buy a scratch card. I honestly don't think I've ever bought one before so I was slightly embarrassed already. I told Alfie to pick one from the vast array displayed next to the till. 'Number 10' he said.
'Can I see your ID' says the slightly scary assistant.
'Oh, it's not for him' I said (face starting to burn)
'Well it obviously is, I heard him choose it' says the scary assistant.
I desperately tried to explain that it wasn't for him while my face burned, the queue of people that had built up behind us looked on, obviously thinking I was encouraging my son's gambling addiction and Alf hopped nervously from foot to foot.
Anyway, she wasn't having any of it so we packed our butter and jam into our plastic bag and scurried away, shame faced.
I felt sure that she'd deprived us of a fortune so I picked up a card in the co op later on. Obviously, if this was a soap opera I'd have picked a winning ticket the 2nd time round. But it isn't. So I didn't.