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It was Friday evening, and Miss Marble sat at her kitchen table pencil in hand, her writing pad before her and her mind on what needed to be bought the next day on her weekly shopping trip.
She disliked domestic shopping. It was tedious in her mind, and nothing more than a means to an end. She much preferred spending her time in her back room stoking the fires under her cauldrons and creating a potion that might do the trick for some neighbour in need.
Miss Marble was a witch who lived at 46 Grimace Street and had done so for a very long time. People came and went on Grimace Street, but Miss Marble had stayed.
On the wall was an order from Dulcie Greenhorn at 6 Grimace Street for a cleaning potion. Dulcie was getting on a bit these days and was in need of some help around the house, and Miss Marble had once mentioned to her that when the time came, a cleaning potion might be useful when Dulcie started to feel she couldn’t do it like she used to.
Tonight, she’d start on the potion as she’d not long received an order of elbow grease and along with a generous helping of bicarbonate of soda, she knew just the amounts to mix together to make all the difference when it came to cleaning.
Miss Marble let her mind wander as she thought of the effect the cleaning potion would have on Dulcie. As Dulcie was a simple down to earth sort of woman she knew Dulcie would get a kick out of what the potion would do for her. Sprinkle a bit on your mop or broom and watch the little darling do the job for you. Though in these modern times Miss Marble did warn against sprinkling any on your vacuum cleaner as the potion and electrics didn’t appear to be compatible with each other.
It got Miss Marble thinking that she should be able to create a potion to solve her dislike of shopping. After all, it was just a matter of a potion to get the shopping trolley going at the supermarket, a list that saw what it needed and away it went. Payment she thought was a different nowadays. The barter system had long gone, and Miss Marble needed money, real money to purchase things at the local Woolworths.
It was something to think about as she jotted down on her list the basic requirements for the next week. She shuddered as she thought of the crowds she’d encounter, the nosy ones who looked at her trolley, who’d whisper to each other as she always passed in her black skirt and pointy hat. After all, Miss Marble reasoned she’d been around a long time, several hundred years in fact and had therefore earned her hat. You couldn’t buy them anymore, and so she wore her’s with pride.
Knowing her list was complete she retired to the back room where on one wall was stored the jars of elbow grease and on the other the bi-carb soda. It was never a good idea to store either ingredient in close proximity to the other. She learned that early on as she grew tired of replacing the walls.
So, with spatula in hand, she stoked up the fire under number three cauldron and set to work. Dulcie, she knew would be around before she left for the shops.