Every Saturday morning Bobby and I become paperboys. Anne wants the Guardian, and I get the Racing Post for me. Whilst there I get Anne's dad a copy of The Times. Anne's mum (rather sweetly) won't read anything funded by Murdoch so I have to pick up an Independent also. For some reason no-one's ever explained to me, I also buy a Telegraph - perhaps it's obligatory for any house with an Aga.
The girl on duty behind the counter Saturday mornings has been working there for 6 months or so. For the last few months I've taken to dumping all the papers on the counter and asking her to remember how much it all comes to (minus my Guardian subscription voucher). Over the weeks it's become part game, part test, part joke and if I'm honest part disbelief on my part – as someone who can still remember what regulars' rounds came to at The Grove in 1984. Anyway, this morning for the first time ever, she correctly guessed that it was £7.60. She was mighty pleased with herself. We whooped and even high-fived.
Except I've just looked and the Racing Post has gone up. Should have been £7.70...
The girl on duty behind the counter Saturday mornings has been working there for 6 months or so. For the last few months I've taken to dumping all the papers on the counter and asking her to remember how much it all comes to (minus my Guardian subscription voucher). Over the weeks it's become part game, part test, part joke and if I'm honest part disbelief on my part – as someone who can still remember what regulars' rounds came to at The Grove in 1984. Anyway, this morning for the first time ever, she correctly guessed that it was £7.60. She was mighty pleased with herself. We whooped and even high-fived.
Except I've just looked and the Racing Post has gone up. Should have been £7.70...
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