Tag Archives: Snapshot


[They are Italian. He is not. Nobody speaks English by choice. They are the customers. He works at the shop. Everybody is tense.]

The Wife: You show us please where ricotta.

Him: Ricotta?

The Wife: Si, ricotta. Um…

[She turns to The Husband and gesticulates stereotypically. The Husband scrunches the very scrunched scrap of paper in his hand and murmurs in Italian.]

Him: [with relief] Yes! Cheese! Just here!

[It is a very small shop. They are stood in front of the cheese.]

Him: [tentatively] Is there anything else you need from me?

The Wife: Yes! Please also…

[The Wife’s eyes widen in bewilderment. The Wife and The Husband confer earnestly in Italian. The Husband scrunches the paper anxiously, while He looks on.]

The Husband: [optimistically] Um, erba cipollina?

[The Wife glares witheringly at The Husband. The Husband returns to silent paper scrunching.]

Him: …

The Wife: It is an ‘ERB. ‘ERB!

[The husband nods.]

Him: …

[He shrugs fearfully.]

The Wife: [gesticulating wildly] You can chop it!

Him: …

The Wife: Like the grass… It is like the GRASS! But an ‘ERB.

[His relief is palpable. He stands taller and smiles proudly, having solved the puzzle.]

Him: Ah! Spring onions! Follow me…

[They head towards the vegetables, passing the chives on their way.]

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The Scratch Card.

[She sits down and sighs. He arrives a minute later and holds out a piece of paper.]

Him: E’are, a Christmas box for yer. I wan’ ‘alf if you win!

[She takes the scratch card.]

Her: Bobby, put that bag down!

Him: I’ll get a seat now.

[He sits down.]

Her: Where’s that one goin’?

[He stands back up again to look at the train.]

Him: It’s goin’ nowhere. Eight minutes.

[He sits down again.]

Her: Put that in the bag.

[She passes him a paper bag. He drops it into the shopping bag he’s holding.]

Him: What is it?

Her: A sausage an’ bean thing fer our Susie. That kettle was an okay price.

Him: Yeah.

[He unfolds his newspaper and begins to read.]

Her: Two or three quid dearer than the last one though.

Him: It’ll be made in China. Look at this.

[He shows her the paper. She looks past it.]

Her: The prices of trains an’ busses these days is terrible. Nothing on it.

[He looks up, momentarily lost, then down to the scratch card in her lap. She has been quietly scratching it.]

Him: You sure?

Her: Yeah.

Him: Oh well. One of these days…


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