Thursday, 14 January 2010

GUEST BLOGGER: My brother, the Original Shop Boy

When I was a kid people would tell me about how cool their cat was, what tricks their dog could do and how well spoken their parrot was. I had snails and lizards and stick insects. The only trick my lizards could do was lose their tail when stressed, a habit I’m glad I never picked up, my snails ate lettuce and my stick insects were brown and sticky.

I hatched the stick insect eggs next to the hot water tank in the house, but never remembered having left them there, and therefore an army of minute stick insects would guard the warm towels, night and day, before dying of boredom or starvation, whichever came first.

Now lizards don’t come for free in London, as many of you might know. London and Mexico differ in many ways, the most distinctive difference between the two countries being a lack of wild lizards in London, and the fact that Argos UK doesn’t accept Pesos.

All residents of London city have to work for their lizards, and I was no exception. I was the original shop boy. While my sister worked for point horror books and Unibrow Monthly Magazine subscriptions, I enthusiastically put lamps together, knowing that after a month of screwing light arms (not as much fun as it sounds, it’s the bit that sticks out from the middle of the light and holds a bulb), my father would drive me to Hackney to choose a lizard.

What attracted me to Lizards? Everyone knows dogs can’t stand halogen bulbs, but lizards love them. I linked my animal passions to my job, clearly showing my genius at a young age. If I had been running a bone shop, I’m sure I would have bought a dog. However I know dogs are expensive and I would have had to screw hundreds of bones together, I don’t know if I would have had the patience. Food for thought, I’m sure you’ll all agree.

Did my work justify a lizard you ask? Let me give you an insight. To wire a light fitting from scratch , you must first grapple with “The Chain”, the most important tool in the shop. To get cables through the fitting’s arm, you need to tie the cables onto a chain you then dangle it through the arm hole (read that carefully, if you are reading this out loud), until you are able to pull the chain through(followed by the cables) to the other end of the arm. A major part of this operation involved cables jammed somewhere in the light, “The Chain” broken in pieces inside the arm, and tears of frustration rolling down your cheek. No one could deny that this was undoubtedly worthy of a small to medium sized lizard.

At the time, I believed “The Chain” to be a professional tool designed for light construction workers worldwide, and, like me, they were all in their shops swinging light arms over their heads in frustration by their chain in attempts to dislodge it and buy a lizard.

Now, 15 years later, I realize it was the chain used to pull a plug out of our bath. I realize emptying a bath was difficult as a child because the chain was being used to pull cables through an arm in our little light shop. Still, if it meant I could have a lizard, I would wrestle with a plug any day of the week.


NB Find out more about Oriol 'Oli' Benet, a DJ and freestyle rollerblader here and here

Saturday, 9 January 2010

Shop Girl Out of London


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It’s likely the cheap accommodation I mentioned is cheap for a reason.
My future flatmate did some research last week.
Turns out there might not be any heating and it could be in a building about to be demolished.
“Hey you could rename your blog ‘Squat Girl’,” my brother said, when I told him.
I worried for a while then I flew to Barcelona to help my parents clear out the family house.
Discomfort is an inevitable part of this process.
Discomfort increases when a stray cat comes in and pees against the coffee table leaving a yellow puddle on the floor.
It made my nose itch and I decided on the spot that I was allergic to cats, which isn’t a problem because I’ve never wanted one.
The only pet I’ll have is a guinea-pig and that’s when I have kids. They won’t have a choice.
But seriously, how bad can these flats really be? I wondered, as I drowned my temper and the cat pee in bleach.
The clear-out unearths old photos, letters and over fifteen years of diaries.
I’m concerned as I read them. I seem to have spent most of my young life feeling love-sick.
The writing is so familiarly dramatic that I start to worry I haven’t developed at all since I was ten.
Luckily I’ve developed externally.
My mum says she wore false eyelashes when she was a teenager so you’d think she’d have been conscientious enough to notice her own daughter’s monobrow.
No such luck.
She was lenient compared to my friends’ mums, which should’ve been a good thing.
Instead it lead me to dye my hair bright orange.
Bright orange hair combined with a dark brown monobrow is unsurprisingly hideous.
It’s a miracle I ever had a boyfriend.
Anyway, the holiday hasn’t been all cat's pee and clearing.
We celebrated the coming of the Three Kings at my Godmother/Auntie's with a paella for forty people.
There never is forty people so everyone goes away with a Tupperware full.
Delicious.
Pity the Date couldn’t make it; as a hardcore carnivore he would’ve really appreciated it.
Next time, eh?
There’s something about Barcelona.
After a few days I always start to wonder why I’m not living here.


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Monday, 28 December 2009

A Very New Year for Shop Girl


Merry belated Christmas!
I hope your sock drawer has been replenished.
Mine has.
My current socks have grey stars on them.
They had grey stars on them yesterday too.
And the day before.
In fact I don't know why I'm still wearing the same ones. I could've put the spotty ones on instead.
Writing at Christmas is heavy going.
Too much food.
Today it's been twiglets. I can't get enough of them.
The New Year on the other hand promises lots of constructive activity.
Exciting things are on the horizon.
No don't be silly, the shop isn't going quite yet.
Give it till March.
But Shop Girl is.
I'm flying off in a new direction.
"How will you write if you aren't in the shop?" people cry.
The shop has been an indispensable source of inspiration for my writing this year but I'm almost certain I can continue writing if I'm not there.
Erase 'almost'.
I'm leaving home too and moving in with an artist friend somewhere in London.
We're registering with an organisation which looks after empty properties and rents them out cheap.
Tomorrow we'll stick pins in a map.
It's not voodoo; it's optimism.
The time has come for me to look for my next plot.
I can't wait to wake up in the morning and think: "Today I can write all day!"
Soon I shall be broke and looking for a new job.
Doing what?
I've no idea.
This New Year is going to be an adventure for more than just me.
One of my favourite characters, cousin Rosie, is heading off around the world and I want to wish her good luck.
As for me I've no intention of abandoning this blog.
It's been an amazing year but the Shop Girl story is far from over.

Wednesday, 16 December 2009

Wintry Shop Girl


I'm relying on 1200 watts for my survival.
They come from a dusty halogen heater that glows at my knees.
I'm wearing so many layers I can't move.
Because I can't move, I'm getting even colder.
Outside it's snowing.
Pretty.
But cold.
And there's not a customer in sight.
I'm wearing long, black, fingerless gloves which make me feel like a miser from a Charles Dickens'.
Or a robber.
Hunched over the counter, I count out my booty. Crystal beads for my mini suspension.
I'm making small chandeliers that fit directly over a bulb; potential sparkling presents for Christmas.
I've made three already and am enjoying the rhythm.
That said, there is a draft running through the building and I'm not sure how much longer I can go on.
I google the health benefits of being cold.
There are none, unless you are up to the neck in icy water. (No thanks)
I chain-drink hot tea.
Soup.
Then more tea.
When I think I can take it no more, a young man comes in and says the magic words.
"Will you marry me?"
No, not those words.
The magic ones.
The only words that can warm me up right now.
"I'd like to buy your book."
And it's like a heater is turned on inside me and the feeling comes back to my fingers.
I find the pen that makes my signature look the best.
Black ink, thin point.
"What's your name?"
"Emil," he says.
"Oh!" I say, "like me, but a boy version!"
Yes, I have a way with words.
He leaves and I am happy.
I have 1200 watts and a kettle.
And if I get really cold again I can always click on the publisher's best seller list.
Seeing 'Shop Girl Diaries' right at the top warms me up every time.
Thanks so much to you all for buying it.
(You know who you are.)

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

Shop Girl Back to Reality


The funny thing is, barterers probably think I'm pleased to see them.
They come in looking so smug.
"Remember me?" they say.
How could I forget? I think. I'm still recovering.
They believe they're about to make my day.
I'm talking about the customers who reappear every few years, battle to the death over a price, pay by credit card then leave me feeling like I've been robbed.
Today a familiar unrelenting barterer reached a new low.
He tried to barter over my book.
"You know me," he said, as he flicked through it, "I like a good price."
I felt a chill run down my spine.
Oh no...
No, no, no...
"That book took me more than a year of blood, sweat and tears."
He looked unconvinced.
He turned to the last pages and started to read.
After a while he returned the book to the window display.
"I might come back."
The glamour of last week's book launch is truly over.
I'm back behind the counter, stringing beads together and apologising for goods that haven't arrived.
To be honest, they haven't arrived because they were ordered late because I've been too distracted.
You could say that lately I've been a bad shop girl.
It's difficult to take customers seriously sometimes.
Like the woman who pointed at a light this afternoon and said she'd need two when she moved house.
"When are you moving?" I asked.
"Maybe next year, maybe the one after... I don't know yet. Do you think you'll have them then?"
At the same time another woman was trying to describe the problem with her chandelier. Not one she'd bought from us but one that had been passed down through generations.
"I cleaned it and now it has a skin," she said.
"A skin?"
"Yes, like a skin."
"The plating has come off?"
"No."
"I've only got gold cleaner," I told her, "but that won't be any good."
I was obviously not helping but she just didn't want to leave.
"Like a skin," she kept saying.
I told her to call back next week when Mum was around.
After that I made a cup of tea.
You can always rely on tea to improve a situation.
I've also discovered a sense of commmunity does wonders too.
The Dress Shop Man bought my book today. He's going to display them in his shop as is Manze's, the famous pie n' mash shop.
Ah, pie n' mash... that's one off my list!
You'll know what I mean when you read the book.

Saturday, 5 December 2009

Shop Girl is Launched




The Big day had come:
The Launch of 'Shop Girl Diaries'.
My nerves were momentarily eased by the successful match of my new tights with the dress.
It's those little details that really niggle.
As the Chines proverb goes, 'it's not the mountain that wears you out but the grain of sand in your shoe.'
Wait...Sand?
My shoes were full of grit.
But I was not alone.
The launch team were all there looking gorgeous though it was pelting with rain.
At this point I must thank Brian and Liz, ex-lighting geniuses, who swapped selling chandeliers for a marsh in Wales where they count migrating birds.
Thanks to their donation there was wine for everyone.
But there wasn't only wine.
Oh no.
Michael, from The Woolpack, who'd previously planned to donate winter Pimms was unperturbed by the museum's rule of no coloured drinks.
He set to work with his alchemy kit and came up with hot, white, winter punch.
What a treat - except I didn't have any because I was too afraid of getting drunk.
There wasn't much chance of that though because I was so busy signing people's books!
I see a blank page and I have to fill it.
So instead of just signing I wrote an essay in each one.
I was thrilled to have so many people there as excited by Shop Girl as I am.
Thanks to Alison and Di from the Fashion and Textiles Museum everything ran seamlessly.
Over 100 people came to the launch and the buzz was incredible.
61 books sold!
I thought I'd be so nervous when the time came to speak.
But I looked around me and saw these people were my family, friends, readers and fellow enthusiasts.
So I opened my mouth and trusted the right thing would come out.
I don't know what I said, I'm still waiting for the video, but I know I meant every word.
I'd almost opted not to read from my book but I'm glad I did. People laughed in the right places and some tell me they've been laughing since reading on trains and planes.
It was a wonderful night and I only wish I could do it all over again to talk to all those I didn't get chance to speak to.
Thank you all for coming and making it such a special evening.

Friday, 27 November 2009

Shop Girl Special Delivery


8 o’clock Monday morning.
I’m sleepy and have no intention of moving until the last minute (which is 9.19, if I don’t wash my hair).
Mum comes into my room. I reluctantly turn and open my eyes.
She’s holding a long brown box.
Suddenly I’m wide awake.
Because I know exactly what’s inside it.
“Oh my God,” I say, jumping up and taking it from her.
“This is it.”
“This is crazy.”
She looks on as I fight to open the box which has clearly been sealed with super glue.
I tug and pull and bite until finally I manage to rip it open.
And there I am, staring back at myself from the book cover of my first published book.
Can I write that again?
My first published book!
Not an image posted on my blog, but the real 3D version.
It’s so smart and smooth and...
“Square,” Mum says, “good shape.”
It’s beautiful and I feel so happy and so proud of it.
“Almost too good to sell,” I say, holding it close.
Across the country Postmen are loading up their red bags with little brown boxes. People could be reading me now in a cafe on their lunch break, or maybe with their legs up on the sofa with a cup of tea.
What an exciting and scary thought!
I hope you’re enjoying it if you’re one of them.
If not, then check out my video for proof that it exists.
I apologise in advance for these 2 minutes of dodgy recording!