Old bag.

I had a right royal run-in with a woman at Monoprix yesterday. I'd nipped in there for my usual fix of well priced (AKA cheap as chips) french bathroom 'produits'. Lovely things like - new ways to thicken fine hair and overnight bronzers that don't ruin your sheets. Anyway it was raining cats and dogs and the only bag I had was one that is so small - it's like the Krypton Factor just getting a purse, a lip balm and a comb in it. As I was paying, I asked la bonne femme for un sac sil vous plait. But she'd already run my credit card through and said it was too late for un sac. Abandoning any attempt at franglaise, I said "but it's raining and I haven't got anything to put all this in" gesturing to my pile of essential body beautifiers. She reached down under her till and tantalised me with a paper bag saying that it was 9 cents and I must pay onleee cash. We stared at each other - me trying to formulate the french for - "Give me the fucking bag you big hairy armpit" and her considering calling security. Help came in the form of the next customer who said - "I shall ow you say - pay for za bag" We both turned in unison, vaguely disappointed that a crisis had been averted and that security guards, managers and ambulances wouldn't be needed. Kissing the guardian angel on both cheeks, I hot footed my way to Cafe de Flore where a glass of vino and some well peppered crips much restored my faith in the french - luckily NIgela had bagged a great seat.