Soho, January 14th 2017

In a Soho corner comic book shop I pick up a Calvin and Hobbes annual. I first came across the pair when they lurked in the toilet of a cramped house-share many years ago and made it my life mission to gather the full collection. A decade later this ambition has amounted to following the official Twitter account. As a wise fridge magnet once advised, it’s never too late! Getting my mitts on every C&H strip is now an official 2018 Focused Target of Achievement (/another thing to spend money on to give me a temporary sense of control and order.)

In the queue ahead of me is a East-Asian teenager and his younger brother. The woman at the till tells him his comic book will be 25 pound. He doesn’t look up but shouts ‘Pa! Twenty Five!’

Nothing happens. The teenager half-amuses himself with a flick-book from the till-front. I look at the woman. Her eyes dart to me and back to the teen.

“Erm so that will be...” 
“PAAA! Twenty five!” He picks up another flickbook. Nothing happens.

The woman and I look around - for explanation, for a hidden camera crew, for reassurance we remain in the realm of sanity. On the other side of the store is an older man frantically fishes through a rucksack. His fumbling hands pass a twenty pound note to his small wife. He needs the five. He looks up helpless before re-doubling his efforts.

“PA! TWENTY FIVE!!” 
The dad rummages. The till woman gives me a toothless smile i recognise as an eye-roll in polite disguise.

“PA!! TWENTY FIVE!!!”
Finally, the baton is passed. The Mum has a full twenty five pound in hand. She races to the counter. She gives the notes to the woman. They go in the till. The teen never looks up from his flickbook - regardless, this is a SUCCESS.

“And it’s 10p for the bag...”
“PA!! TEN CENT!”