My mortality. My cylinder vacuum cleaner

My cylinder vacuum cleaner has conked out. I bought it in the 70s and it still has the same bag. I didn’t expect it to go on forever but I was cautiously optimistic that I would cross the finishing line before it did. Now I’m faced with the prospect of buying a new Electrolux – at my age.

This morning Flo minded the shop while I popped along the High Street to do a little research at Maxwell’s Electricals of Appleton Marsh. I say popped – it took me an hour to get down there. It was Leslie Maxwell Senior himself that served me.

“I recommend a Dyson,” said Leslie, pointing out a garish plastic see-through contraption.

I had to laugh.

“Why would I want my understairs cupboard to look like a discotheque?”

“It has suction second to none,” he declared. “It uses dual cyclone technology.”

“Have you seen my house, Leslie?” I asked. “The most it will have to cope with is the occasional savoury snack spillage. Dual cyclone sounds a bit overkill.”

“Don’t dismiss the idea, Doris. This weekend we have 20% off the DC39,” he said, gesturing towards another vulgar purple thing.

“The DC39 has radial root technology and a triggerhead tool which is turbine head controlled at the handle, so no bending down.”

Leslie is a salesman. He knows which buttons to press.

“It has a stubborn dirt brush, Doris, for removing hard-to-shift dirt.”

“What are you trying to say, Leslie?”

He backtracked.

“In case Flo wants to borrow it, Doris. You’ll find when you own this machine you’ll be the talk of Appleton Marsh.”

Another button pushed.

“And it comes with a 25 year guarantee, Doris.”

I looked at him askance. If you’ve never seen one of my askance looks they’re hard to describe, but Leslie recognised it for what it was.

“Leslie, as you know, I am by nature a glass seven-eighths full person but even I don’t think I’ll be claiming on a warranty when I’m 104 years of age. What’s more, you’re older than me and wouldn’t be around to honour it anyway.”

He nodded.

“We do a 5 year guarantee as standard,” he said.

“Now you’ve gone the other way,” I said. “Do I look as if a 5 year guarantee will see me out?”

“No, no. Not at all,” he smiled, turning on the charm. “You look as young today as the day I first set eyes on you.”

I shook my my head in pity.

“You do talk claptrap, Leslie.”

I shouldn’t have sworn but honestly – he first set eyes on me over 50 years ago when, by my recollection, my skin wasn’t like ancient parchment covered in liver spots and my hair was dark and at least covered my scalp.

“So, let’s talk turkey. How much for the talk of Appleton Marsh machine?“

“£439 less your 20% discount is…”

“£351.20,” I said, saving him the bother of finding a calculator. “But what will I have to pay?”

“I can maybe knock off another 5% because we’re old friends.”

“And what about if I don’t want the 25 year guarantee?”

If he’d forgotten that he was dealing with the arch-negotiator, he knew now.

“Okay, I’ll knock off 10%, so that’s a 30% discount, but your guarantee will only last 5 years.”

I wasn’t listening.

“What about a discount for collecting in person?”

“Look Doris, let’s just call it £300 – for you.”

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He looked at me suspiciously. I knew what he was thinking.

“Only over 12 months,” I said.

“He still looked me up and down with an actuarial eye.”

“Doris Brazil you drive a hard bargain,” he laughed at last, spitting into the palm of his hand and extending it. Leslie’s airways are a bit mucousy these days so I didn’t participate in the ritual shake.

“Deal,” I said. “Deliver it on Wednesday afternoon at three o’clock. And don’t be late.”

It’s a slight incline back to DBLW and it took almost an hour and a half to haul my weary limbs back by which time Flo was almost at meltdown.

“What took you so long?” she whispered. “I’ve had four customers in since you left. I had two at once!”

“Not now, Flo,” I told her. “I need to rest my legs. You ‘man’ the counter while I take my break.”

I made sure to avoid eye contact with her as I made a bee-line for the DBLW staff room. Flo doesn’t know it yet but that little act of petulance just cost her another Employee of the Month award.