Avon calling

Hello! Susan here, your local Avon lady. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise me as I am used to that now. No-one ever sees me; it’s part of the Avon way. Late at night I will skulk my way up to your porch and drop the latest catalogue onto your doorstep – face down for dog owners, face up otherwise – before melting my way back into normal society… to wait. Next week I’ll be back at the same time, primed and ready to pounce on any filled-out forms. Oho, what’s this? Mr Sampson at number 56 wants a tea cosy? Watson, something is afoot!

Oh, Mr Sampson what happened? I’m more than familiar with your usual tastes – did you think this would fool me? Why, only last week I was hiding under the table as you ate dinner with your family. No, you didn’t see me because that’s the Avon way. I confess to having a spot of bother with your dog but I was forewarned by the catalogue being face up. As I peered and sniffed my way around under your house I couldn’t help but notice that you had used the purple Homer Simpson cheese grater for the cheese salad… and I shed a tear of joy.

Yes, for I well remember the day you ordered it way back in 2008 and I took a photocopy of the order form for prosperity’s sake. Order number AV1389-0A – look, it’s even tattooed onto my hand because that’s the Avon way. Last month I was watching as you sat on your dear lonesome in the pub. You ordered a Guinness and once again you failed to chastise the barman for not pouring it correctly… I wept for you. When you went to the toilet I approached your table and turned over your beer mat. I put it face up as you did not have your dog with you before remembering that you’re still a dog owner and turned it back over again. I battled with my inner self for days afterwards… such is the emotional price of having a philosophy.

Oh, Mr Sampson, how I adore thee.