Naomi looks round to see the cluster of other mothers, like herself, mesmerised by Granada TV Rental's windows*. The cluster breaks, and its various components span out across the cool maible floor.
* Granada TV Rental — the name of a supermarket.
Lucy strains to stand up in her pushchair. Naomi eases her out of the canvas straps and settles her on the red seat of the silver trolley. She pauses momentarily, to decide which is to be the first aisle of the journey; should she start with soft drinks, vegetables, frozen foods, tins — she decides on fruit juice.
As they wheel past the rack of special-offer Mars bars, Naomi gently deflects Lucy's outstreched hand, her thumb briefly stroking the soft palm of Lucy's hand. I could do the shopping with my eyes shut, thinks Naomi, once a week for how many weeks, everything always in the same place. She turns the trolley to the right, to the fridge where the pineapple juice cartons — she stops. The open maw of the fridge gapes. It is empty. Ah well. Perhaps they have run out of cartons of fmit juice.
She decides to do dairy products next; cream, butter, some yoghurt — but instead, on the racks where the dairy products used to be, she finds pizzas, steak and kidney pies in transparent wrappings, and further on packets of frozen raspberries. Something is wrong. She begins to collect, feeling uneasy that it isn't in the order of her choice, worried that if she leaves things now to go on to another aisle, they will have disappeared when she gets back.
She wheels on, to where she expects to find the vegetable racks: the net bags of apples, avocados. But instead there are long spaghetti packets, rice, curled pasta. Again she collects, panic beginning to rise. She mustn't show it to Lucy, who is happy being wheeled at such sightseeing speed.
Naomi makes confidently for the cold meat counter; it is dark, piled up with towers of soft toilet paper; the plastic box where scraps of meat were sold cheaply, the ends of cuts, is upside down, empty. For the first time she notices the other women. They walk fast, their heads slightly bent, cradling highpiled baskets, anxiety on their faces, grabbing cereals, bread, soap powders, cleansers, hurrying past pensioners, running, running.
Lucy now has a fist in her. mouth, enjoying the game.
Naomi speeds up to join the pace, taking what she can wherever she can, until she arrives at the back of the floor space, at the point where the soft drinks used to be. Naomi gasps. The once smooth space is now a raw gash, copper cables twisting like thick muscle fibre, clinging to the broken brick and plaster gaps in the walls.
Naomi hears a voice saying. Nothing is where it was. Lucy giggles and she realises that she has spoken out loud. She looks round. No one seems to have heard her. They are all too busy. Naomi looks down at the trolley. It is full of everything she has meant to buy, but none of it is in the right order.
Naomi wheels the trolley slowly towards the cash tills. Lucy, sensitive to the change in pace, stops giggling; she is now pale and still. Naomi joins a queue at a cash till, watching the other women.
Naomi stands behind a woman who fumbles for her cheque book. Naomi watches paper bags, plastic carriers, boxes and baskets flash between the tills and the plate glass window.
Naomi's turn comes. She lifts a bottle of lemon and lime out of the trolley. The outside is sticky. Naomi moves her index and second fingers to a dry part of the bottle, her hand slips, the bottle falls, its soft edge knocks against the rim of the conveyor belt and bursts.
Thick, bright green liquid squirts luminously back into the trolley, over tins of tuna fish. Lucy claps her hands in delight, and reaching into the trolley, she lifts a packet of white flour and drops it with a dull thud on the floor. A white cloud powders the feet of the women. Lucy giggles. Naomi feels a cloud of answering laughter rise in her, tries to keep it down, looks up and catches the eye of the woman queuing behind her. The woman smiles, ruffles Lucy's hair and then lifts a bag of tomatoes from her own baskets and hurls it overarm against the special offer of tea bags. Red seed drips down against the green boxes.
The women look at one another. Suddenly bits of flattened, squared ham fly free of their jellied, cellophane packets, duck pate bursts out of its blue pottery bowls, salt and vinegar crisps crackle underfoot, sliding through white cottage cheese.
The lights of the cash tills spark white, the women sitting at the money machines aren't sure which way to turn, one picks up a cucumber and slides it along the floor, into a welcoming pool of raspberry yoghurt.
Outside the plate glass window red and blue lights flash as pale men in dark blue peer through the window at all Christmas and birthday and anniversary celebrations in one.
Ten feet away, sixteen dark-haired mothers smile at their babies for the sixteenth time and enfold them in sixteen warm, pink blankets.
(Story by Michelene Wandor. Abridged)
I. Answer the questions.
1. Where does Naomi see sixteen mothers first?
2. Who is Lucy?
3. How old can Lucy be?
4. What aisle does Naomi choose to be the first one?
5. Does the sight in front of her eyes meet her expectations?
6. What does she decide to do next?
7. What does Naomi see on the racks where the dairy products used to be?
8. What does Naomi find on the vegetable racks?
9. What kind of box does she find empty?
10. Does Naomi notice the other women?
11. Does Naomi manage to collect everything she has meant to buy?
12. What does Naomi see at a cash till?
13. What happens when Naomi lifts a bottle of lemon and lime?
14. Why does Lucy drop a packet of white flour?
15. How does the woman behind her react?
16. What do the other women start doing?
17. How do the women sitting at the cash tills react?
18. What do the phrases "red and blue lights flash" and "pale men in dark blue" mean?
19. Why is the story called Sweet Sixteen?
II. Discussion points.
1. Do you find the end quite unexpected?
2. Was it an abnormal reaction on the part of the customers?
3. What caused this sort of reaction, in your opinion?
SHOPPING FOR CONSUMER GOODS
Text 1
Christmas Presents
... on Christmas day we went into the lounge and opened our presents. I was dead disappointed when I saw the shape of my present. I could tell at a glance that it didn't contain a single microchip. Ok, a sheepskin coat is warm but there's nothing you can do with it, except wear it. In fact after only two hours of wearing it, I got bored and took it off.
However, my mother was ecstatic about her egg timer; she said, 'Wow, another one for my collection.' Rosie ignored the chocolate Santa I bought her. That's 75 pence wasted! This is what I got:
3/4 length sheepskin coat (out of Little Woods catalogue)
Slippers (like Michael Caine wears, although not many people know that)
Swiss army knife (my father is hoping I'll go out into the fresh air and use it)
Tin of humbugs (supposedly from the dog)
Knitted Balaclava helmet (from Grandma Mole).
(Extract from "The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole " by Sue Townsend)
Discussion points.
1. Do you think that people who are closest to you expect more expensive presents?
2. Some people think that it is more preferable to receive a personal, carefully chosen gift however small and inexpensive, than a big, expensive gift or simply the gift of money. What do you think, and why?
3. Describe in detail an object that you always wanted as a child. Explain why you wanted it so badly, whether you eventually got it and how, and what the significance of it is for you now.
Text 2
A Shopping Expedition
The man in the gentlemen's outfitting department at Barkridge's held Paddington's hat at arm's length between thumb and forefinger. He looked at it distastefully.
'I take it young ... er, gentleman, will not be requiring this any more, Madam?' he said.
'Oh yes, I shall,' said Paddington, firmly. 'I've always had that hat — ever since I was small.'
'But wouldn't you like a nice new one, Paddington?' said Mrs. Brown, adding hastily, 'for best?'
Paddington thought for a moment. 'I'll have one for worst if you like,' he said. 'That's my best one!'
The salesman shuddered slightly and, averting his gaze, placed the offending article in the far end of the counter.
'Albert!' He beckoned to a youth who was hovering in the background. 'See what we have in size 4 7/8.' Albert began to rummage under the counter.
'And now, while we're about it,' said Mrs. Brown, 'we'd like a nice warm coat for the winter. Something like a duffle coat with toggles so that he can do it up easily, I thought. And we'd also like a plastic raincoat for the summer.'
The salesman looked at her haughtily. He wasn't very fond of bears and this one, especially, had been giving him queer looks ever since he'd mentioned his wretched hat. 'Has Madam tried the bargain basement?'* he began. 'Something in Government Surplus...'**
* A section of a shop set aside for special offeis, Li.e. goods at reduced prices. Not necessarily a basement.
** Government Surplus shops sprang up everywhere in England after the war. Originally they sold surplus military coats, shirts, boots, etc. Now they sell tough outdoor clothing, camping equipment, working clothes, etc. Very little of their stock is nowadays bought from the government.
'No, I haven't,' said Mrs. Brown, hotly. 'Government Surplus indeed! I've never heard of such a thing — have you, Paddington?'
'No,' said Paddington, who had no idea what Government Surplus was. 'Never!' he stared hard at the man, who looked away uneasily. Paddington had a very persistent stare when he cared to use it. It was a very powerful stare. One which his Aunt Lucy had taught him and which he kept for special occasions.
Mrs. Brown pointed to a smart blue duffle coat with a red lining. 'That looks the very thing,' she said.
The assistant gulped. 'Yes, Madam. Certainly, Madam.' He beckoned to Paddington. 'Come this way, sir.'
Paddington followed the assistant, keeping about two feet behind him, and staring very hard. The back of the man's neck seemed to go a dull red and he fingered his collar nervously. As they passed the hat counter, Albert, who lived in constant fear of his superior, and who had been watching the events with an open mouth, gave Paddington the thumbs-up sign.* Paddington waved a paw. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
* When a Roman gladiator had overcome another he was expected to ask the Emperor or senior person present at the games whether he was to kill his opponent or not. If the Emperor held his thumb down it meant 'kill him'. If the thumb pointed upward it meant 'spare him'. By extention, thumbs-up = life and hope.
He allowed the assistant to help him on with the coat and then stood admiring himself in the mirror. It was the first coat he had ever possessed. In Peru it had been very hot, and though his Aunt Lucy had made him wear a hat to prevent sunstroke, it had always been much too warm for a coat of any sort. He looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised to see not one, but a long line of bears stretching away as far as the eye could see. In fact, everywhere he looked there were bears, and they were all looking extremely smart.
'Isn't the hood a trifle large?' asked Mrs. Brown, anxiously.
'Hoods are being worn large this year. Madam,' said the assistant. 'It's the latest fashion.' He was about to add that Paddington seemed to have rather a large head anyway but he changed his mind. Bears were rather unpredictable. You never quite knew what they were thinking and this one in particular seemed to have a mind of his own.
'Do you like it, Paddington?' asked Mrs. Brown.
Paddington gave up counting bears in the mirror and turned round to look at the back Vicw. 'I think it's the nicest coat I've ever seen,' he said, after a moment's thought. Mrs. Brown and the assistant heaved a sigh of relief.
'Good,' said Mrs. Brown. "That's settled, then. Now there's just the question of a hat and a plastic mackintosh!'
She walked over to the hat counter, where Albert, who could still hardly take his admiring eyes off Paddington, had arranged a huge pile of hats. There were bowler hats, sun hats, trilby hats, berets, and even a very small top hat. Mrs. Brown eyed them doubtfully. 'It's largely a question of his ears. They stick out rather.'
'You could cut some holes for them,' said Albert.
The assistant froze him with a glance. 'Cut a hole in a Barkridge's hat!' he exclaimed. 'I've never heard of such a thing.'
Paddington turned and stared at him. 'I... er...' The assistant's voice trailed off. 'I'll go and fetch my scissors,' he said, in a queer voice.
'I don't think that will be necessary at all,' said Mrs. Brown, hurriedly. 'It's not as if he had to go to work in the city, so he doesn't want anything too smart. I think this woollen beret is very nice. The one with the pom-pom on top. The green will go well with his new coat and it'll stretch so that he can pull it down over his ears when it gets cold.'
Everyone agreed that Paddington looked very smart, and while Mrs. Brown looked for a plastic mackintosh, he trotted off to have another look at himself in the mirror. He found the beret was a little difficult to raise as his ears kept the bottom half firmly in place. But by pulling on the pom-pom he could make it stretch quite a long way, which was almost as good. It meant, too, that he could be polite without getting his ears cold.
The assistant wanted to wrap up the duffle coat for him but after a lot of fuss it was agreed that, even though it was a warm day, he should wear it. Paddington felt very proud of himself and he was anxious to see if other people noticed.
(Extract from "A Bear from Peru in England" by M. Bond)
Text 3
Harrods
ENTER A DIFFERENT WORLD
Welcome to Harrods — a different world for a million reasons. Harrods is the largest store in Europe with goods displayed in 60 windows and five and a half hectares of selling space. In one year over 14 million purchases are made in the 214 departments where you can buy anything from a pin to an elephant - if you can convince the manager of the Pet Department that you are a suitable elephant owner, that is! It is Harrods' policy to stock a wide and exciting range of merchandise in every department to give the customer a choice of goods which is unique in its variety and which no other store can match: Harrods stocks 100 different whiskies, 57 single malts, 450 different cheeses, 500 types of shirts and 9,000 ties to go with them, 8,000 dresses and 150 different pianos.
Harrods also offers a number of special services to its customers including a bank, an insurance department, a travel agency, London's last circulating library, a theatre ticket agency and a funeral service. £40 million worth of goods are exported annually from Harrods and the Export Department can deal with any customer purchase or order and will pack and send goods to any address in the world. Recently, for example, six bread rolls were sent to New York, a handkerchief to Los Angeles, a pound of sausages to a yacht anchored in the Mediterranean, a Persian carpet to Iran and a £5,000 chess set to Australia. Harrods has a world-wide reputation for first-class service. It has a staff of 4,000, rising to 6,000 at Christmas time.
Harrods sells 5 million different products, not all of which are actually kept in stock in the store itself. To handle this enormous range, a new computerized warehouse is being built. It will be the largest warehouse in Britain and the second largest in Europe and will deal with a wider range of goods than any other distribution centre in the world. Thanks to its modem technology a customer will be able to order any product (for example, a dining table or a dishwasher) from any assistant in the store. The assistant will be able to check its availability immediately on a computer screen, decide with the customer on a suitable delivery date and time and then pass the order directly to the warehouse through the computer. The time of delivery will be guaranteed to within one hour.
For many of London's visitors Harrods is an important stop on their sightseeing programme. Henry Charles Harrod's first shop was opened in 1849, but the building as it stands today was started in 1901 and it has become one of London's landmarks. It has many items of architectural interest: the plaster ceilings are original, as is the famous Meat Hall with its Victorian wall tiles, and the light fittings on the ground floor date back to the 1930s. A morning spent strolling round Harrods is guaranteed to give any shopper an appetite, and to feed its customers Harrods has six restaurants, ranging from the Circle self-service restaurants offering delicious food at reasonable prices to the famous Harrods Restaurant, where queues form every afternoon for the "Grand Buffet Tea", which fora fixed price allows you to eat as many cream cakes and gateaux as your greed will allow while waitresses serve you with India or China tea. If you feel like a drink you can choose between the pub atmosphere of the Green Man Tavern and the sophistication of the Cocktail Lounge. Harrods truly is a different world.