The checkout counter is full- bottled water, toilet roll, washing up liquid.  A basket remains at the edge of the conveyor belt.  As I stand there, the woman looks my way and attempts to put the basket down with the other discarded, empty stack, and starts to remove the cucumber and pack of toilet roll remaining inside in what seems to be an attempt to give me some space to place my own, full basket on the ledge.  Her eyes are small, heavily make-upped.  She has some difficulty, so with my free hand I lift the basket back up to its edge perch so that she can more easily remove the goods.  Instead, she turns back to her shopping already rolling down the belt.  I think, maybe this was here when she came along then.  Or maybe the person went to pick up one last frozen pizza, rushing back.

Someone else comes up behind me, and the growing gap on the checkout belt becomes bold.

I ask, ‘Is this your stuff?  Do you need this?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I need to see…,’  trailing off into a mumble that turns to an intent look at the counter in front of her.

As the bulk of her shop is rung off, the basket remains on the far side of the counter.  I begin to place my own things on the belt.  She is packing, having trouble opening each plastic bag, glancing up at the ongoing price.

Her total is made. ‘Do you want these?’  I hold up the basket.

‘Yes, hold on.’  She inspects the screen with a quick glare, then gets out several 5 pound coupons to pay.  I put the basket down below, with the cucumber and toilet roll still inside.  She leaves.

I pack my own purchases, attempting to be quick about it.

‘22.61 please.’ I get out a 2 pount discount voucher, hand it to the checkout lady, who after scrutinizing it scans it in.

‘22.61 please.’

‘Is that with the voucher?’

‘Yes, it’s taken off, it’s 22.61.’

I give her 30 pounds, then ask, ‘Wasn’t it that before?’

She gets out the receipt, looks it over talking to herself all the while.  Then she turns to the till and begins to look at every voucher she’s received.

‘I can’t find it now.  That’s strange.’

Eventually she locates it.

‘Well, it must be in there if the machine has it,’ she resigns. ‘I’ll give you ten instead of eight I guess.’

She walks into the bank, sauntering slowly towards the desk at the back of the low ceiling room.

‘Do you know where Ally bank is?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Ally bank, is it nearby?’

The man behind the desk is bored.  Round-headed, ‘No, sorry don’t know.’

The man in front of me speaks up, ‘I think it’s down there, just further down Wood Green.’

She leaves.

‘You don’t know the nearby banks?’ the man in front asks like a light punch on the arm.  The man at the desk is more serious.

‘No no, I know, but I ain’t gonna tell her how to get to another bank.’

I don’t follow the shift, but the man in front of me begins to ask how he can make a deposit to a charity so that they know it’s his.  The man behind the desk tells him in elaborate detail, where to put his name, how it’ll appear on their statements, waving his hands around.  One carries a large gold ring, inset as if a wax seal.  The clerk sitting next to him behind the desk has so far said nothing, but look intently up at the man receiving the instructions as if he is contributing to this communication, nodding with his mouth slightly ajar.

‘