By Dymphna O’Dea
Transcript
Awakened by the narrow shaft of light between the curtains, I realise that the day of The Great Winter Sale has finally arrived. Out of bed in a flash, on with some clothes, no time to waste.
Usually one who enjoys breakfast I want to forego it to get on with the important business of the day. Auntie M says we have plenty of time before the shop doors open. Then the smell of the sizzling sausages wafts towards me and I realize that I am starving.
The drive into Cashel seems endless by comparison with the usual five minute journey. Anticipation mounts and images of hats, dresses, jumpers dance excitedly in my head.
Finally, my feet are securely planted on the ground. The Main Street pavement feels cold, hard and supportive beneath me. My anticipatory joy is palpable! We have arrived. Standing beside Auntie M. in a queue of fellow, focused bargain hunters, all with one objective in mind. Some cursory greetings are exchanged. The only respite will be when Davern’s open their maroon doors.
As I wait my head is a riot of possibilities. How am I going to choose my favourite outfit? What if someone else gets to it before me? What if I choose the wrong thing? What if it is too expensive?
“Take your time deciding,” advises Auntie M.
The traffic passes by at arm’s length from us. They look quizzically at the meandering queue as we watch them in return. I wonder why they are letting this once a year opportunity drift from their grasp. Lost in thought about what lies within I suddenly hear a rattle of keys and a click. The doors open and we surge forward in a choreographed line.
The hustle and bustle begins as people browse and pick their chosen items. While it is a bewildering experience for a twelve year old, my determination is unfaltering as I scan the rails.
Those around me are oblivious to my palpable joy when I spot the outfit. A beautiful red jacket and skirt trimmed in navy with magnificent gold buttons. Almost afraid to touch this item of beauty I then feel the softness against my skin. My mind is made up. Carefully folded and wrapped in tissue paper. Finally, the bag is handed to me. I can scarcely believe it. I was probably the happiest person in Cashel on that cold December morning.