The local toyshop, just around the corner from my home back in the 1960s, was a treasure trove for local children. It seemed that every toy we could ever want was in that small shop. Mind you, at the time it didn’t look small. To a small boy, though, it was big, stacked from top to bottom with every toy imaginable. I only discovered, years later when I revisited the area, just how small the shop was.
It was in a row of local shops, conveniently next door to my favourite sweet shop.
I would visit the toyshop several times a week, mostly window shopping, but occasionally I would pluck up the courage to go in. As you walked in, the left side of the shop sold toys for boys. To the right, girls' toys. Needless to say, I never crossed the boundary to the right.
The shopkeeper would look in my direction.
“Hello again.” He would say, in recognition of my many visits. “What interests you today?”
“Just looking." I would reply.
“Well, don’t look for too long, because next time you come in, what you want now might be sold.”
The shopkeeper tried his best to encourage me to spend.
