Picturesque Goa

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NOSTALGIA - Articles,Poems & Photos


TONFERNS CREATIONS - Tony's Art & Hobbies

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Amchea Bapa

Amchea Bapa
(Our Father)
(in Konkani)

Illuminated Calligraphy
Tony Fernandes
(Text: 1962)

Konkani is an Indo-Aryan language belonging to the Indo-European family of languages and is spoken on the western (Konkan) coast of India. It is one of the official languages of India, the official language of the Indian state of Goa and is a minority language in Karnataka.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Old Country Church - Goa, India

Church of St. Diogo, Guirim/Sangolda - Bardez, Goa. India
Size: 12" x 9"
by Tony Fernandes

           My favourite song by Sean Wilson somehow brings poignant memories of my childhood in Goa where  I grew up. There seems to be such a stark similarity in the lyrics of the song to the days of my teenage years that I spent there. On Sunday mornings I walked to Church along with my folks  to attend Mass, and later in the afternoon for Catechism classes.  I served Mass in Latin as a young boy.

Then after I completed my college education I worked far away from home.
Every year I went on a holiday to see my Mum and Dad, and went to the same old  village church again re-living my childhood, albeit just briefly, the difference being my childhood friends had grown up into men too. We met outside the church after the Mass, spoke about old times, bringing tears to my eyes that I vainly tried to hide.

          In my drawing of the old country church, on the far right is the cemetery. There lie the graves of my Mum and Dad.
Old Country Church

There's a place near to me, where I'm longing to be
With my friends at the old country church
There with mother we went, and our Sundays were spent
With our friends at the old country church.

As a small country boy, how my heart beat with joy
When I knelt in the old country church
And the Saviour above, by His wonderful love
Saved my soul at the old country church.

How I wish that today all the people would pray
As we prayed in the old country church
If they'd only confess, Jesus surely would bless
As he did in the old country church.

Of't my thoughts make me weep, for so many now sleep
In their graves near the old country church
And sometime I may rest, with the friends I love best
In a grave near the old country church.

Precious years of memories,
Oh what joy they bring to me (they bring to me)
How I long once more to be,
With my friends at the old country church...

Saturday, May 23, 2009


World War II Model
Hand-crafted from 1/8" plywood
Scale: 1/16"

The original Willys Jeep was manufactured in the U.S.A. It was imported and mainly used by the Portuguese Army and the Police Force in Goa till 18th December 1961.

Mahindra & Mahindra was set up as a steel trading company in 1945. It eventually saw business opportunity in expanding into manufacturing and selling larger MUVs, starting with assembly under licence of the Willys Jeep in India.

The popularity of the Jeeps built under licence by Mahindra & Mahindra in grew rapidly in Goa after the Indian take-over. In fact, the first lot of these seen on the roads in Goa were the ones used by the Indian Army contingent that drove into Goa from 3 different fronts.

Subsequently, they were used by the Government in various departments and by the private sector as well.

As a young boy I admired this versatile engineering marvel - a rugged and dependable four-wheel drive vehicle. Its robust, straight-cut appearance and identity has not changed much from its initial design. I recall making a toy replica of this machine out of a grey or red colour Agfa-Gavaert 120mm Black & White film carton that my neighbour, Mr. Paul Monteiro Sr., a professional photographer, had discarded after using using the film.

That hand-made model had springs made from copper wire that represented the front and rear leaf springs of this vehicle, and wheels labouriously cut from doubled-up cardboard and several pieces glued together to acquire the thickness of the tyres. By the time the model was completed I found my fingers with a lot of nicks and cuts in making the miniature, from using a pen-knife and 7 o'clock shaving razor blades collected from Bernard Titi who lived next door.

Having coming a long way from childhood to almost old age, my interest in this vehicle has not ebbed one bit. I have hand-crafted the model pictured above from 1/8" thick plywood, using a sliding blade cutter, cutting board and glue. NO SCROLL SAW IS USED. Length approx. 10 inches.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Bedford trucks were quite popular in Goa during the 1950's and 1960's. There were various models used in the mining and construction sector. Many of these were privately owned as well. They were utilized for general purpose such as in transportation of laterite stones, bags of cement, fire-wood, tiles, gravel, sand and various other construction material.
Some of them came with hydraulic dumpers and a forward tilt-cabs among others with two types of horns - one was an air-horn with a distinct loud sound for the mining area in addition to the one for use in normal driving in town.

I have hand-crafted the model shown above
from 1/8 inch plywood.
Built on a separate 1/4 in. beam chassis,
the cab is hinged on 1/8" dowel.
The carrier is hinged at the rear
with a retractable lift bar.
Tony Fernandes

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

BMW Motor-cycle with side-car

It was not uncommon in the late 1950's until the early 1960's to come across one of the Jesuit priests of St. Britto's High School, thundering down the streets of Mapusa town (Goa - India) on a shaft-driven BMW motorcycle, albeit without the side-car. It was easily distinguishable by the distinct low thud of its engine. I could not refrain from turning my head as the priest sped by whenever I happened to go to Mapusa town from Guirim, which is just about 2 km away. This motor-bike was a legend in its time in the Goa of the past.
The model shown above has been hand-crafted
by Tony Fernandes
from 1/8" thick plywood. Length: 10 inches.
with rotating wheels and detachable side-car.

Sunday, May 17, 2009


The Mini Moke

The model shown in the photograph above is hand-crafted from 1/8" plywood.
Tools used: sliding blade cutter, steel ruler,
hole saw for wheels, wooden dowels for axles,
cutting board and glue.
No scroll saw was used. Length: 11 inches
(Crafter: Tony Fernandes)

The Mini Moke is a vehicle based on the Austin Mini of BMC (British Motor Corporation. The name comes from "Mini"—the car with which the Moke shares many parts—and "Moke" which, I believe, is an archaic dialect term for 'donkey'. It was designed for the BMC by a genius - a famous car designer and engineer of Greek origin, Sir Alexander Arnold Constantine Issigonis, CBE, FRS (18 Nov 1906 - 2 October 1988).

I saw it in Abu Dhabi in November 1967 for the very first first time. The Architectural and Engineering Consulting firm that I worked for then had a fleet of them. The Architects and Engineers used them for visiting the various construction sites in town. Also many other contractors used the Mini-Moke to visit constructions projects. It also served as a short distance shuttle for picking and dropping their personnel to the staff quarters.

Its advantage was in easy access - not much unlike the electric golf carts of today - an ideal vehicle for use as a run-about for hop-in/hop-off jobs. One had to just jump in and take off. It had a very low center of gravity, with sunken seating, more like a tub with broad raised 'pontoon' sides that served as recessed compartments - the left-hand pontoon contained the fuel tank whereas the right-hand side one had compartments for the battery and another one for a jack, tools or accessories. It was very popular with construction companies as a run-about vehicle for various jobs in town, and I was really fascinated by it as a young man - waiting for the slightest chance of hitching a ride in one.

To me this vehicle - the Mini Moke - was a real marvel - one awesome, simple and convenient form of transport, and a practical piece of engineering - front wheel drive, transverse engine, standard track, typical big steering wheel and easy to handle. It seated four persons, with space for luggage behind the rear seats. It even came with a spare tyre attached to the rear. Invariably, somehow most of them were painted dark green. Some were fitted with metal framework and tarps.

I have very fond memories of first riding in it to and fro from work, and then eventually having had the fun and pleasure in actually at the wheel in driving one myself. They were much in use until the mid-seventies.

Rear View
 Independent Front Suspension
Independent Front Suspension 
 Rear Pivot Swing Axle
I remember the vehicle quite well, and miss it so much, that I decided to include it in the range of many scale models of cars that I make out of 1/8" thick plywood and took the liberty of making a slightly extended version - as the one pictured above. There's independent suspension fitted in front and while the rear wheels are fitted on a swing axle.

Please visit the following website
 to view a vast selection of Mini-moke models.

You will find the one featured on this blog page under the following link:

Saturday, May 16, 2009


A SOMMELIER is trained and certified expert in wine. But nowadays WATER experts have also appeared on the scene. And connoisseurs of tea, cheese, cigar, syrup and even bath experts are not far behind in the mind-boggling usage of abstract terminology in trying to pep-talk their way into the hearts of prospective customers of not only fine wines but also various other exotic products.

For instance, common descriptive terminology in defining ‘mineral’ water:

Heard these ones?

1. “Oh, this water is great! It has the right consistency, temperature and smoothness!

(The only consistency that presently comes to mind is of paint mixtures, temperature when the weather gets to –30 C and smoothness of my handicrafts.

2. This wine has texture.

(I thought only surfaces have this property) Imagine wine being rough on your palate?

3. This wine/water comes an amusing bouquet.

(I was thinking of a ‘bouquet of flowers’ and the amusing anecdote that came along with it)

4. This water is crispier and lighter!

(Toast and chips crispy, yes. But crispy water, no.
And how does one measure water in the mouth for weight—is there a weighing scale fitted in there?)

5. This water has a very light spritz, it can energise your palate.

(Spritz? What’s that? I’ve no idea. Or is it some kind of a battery for a palate or an exhausted battery due for a recharge so that it can energise you palate?

6. This water comes with a flavour!

(Flavour? From where? The kitchen? Artificial?)

Thursday, May 14, 2009


(Lift up your hearts)

‘Tomorrow is going to be a great day for me’ thought Felicio, on the eve of what he considered would be a great milestone. Perhaps it would be a very nervous and tense moment too, for the first time in his life, he thought. Late that evening Felicio was returning home after the final rehearsal in the village chapel. He was hoping that all would go well the next day. He would be serving Mass in Latin the next day and officially declared as an Altar Boy. He was glad that his friend, Joao-Francis, was going to assist him.

It was dusk now and Felicio’s mother was waiting for his return home. She was lighting the kerosene chimney lamp in the ‘sala’ as he entered the house. “How did the rehearsal go, Felicio?”, his mother asked. “Very well,” Felicio replied, “fortunately I won’t be serving alone. Joao-Francis will be my partner in serving Mass for the first time. Mother, I'm going to be an altar boy - and I'm little nervous and happy too.” “That’s good” his mother said. “Don’t worry,” she continued, “everything will go well; now let’s recite the Angelus”. She finished lighting the oil lamp and placed the candles on the ‘altar’, high on the wall into a niche where his hands could barely reach.

As the evening prayers ended, Felicio felt comfortable with the thought that he will have some company the next day in serving Mass. Hoping that everything would go well, and keeping his fingers crossed, he said a silent prayer for a successful outcome. Sometime during the next two or three days, he reminded himself, he must let his father, who worked in Bombaim, know about this auspicious event. Mother will take care of that for certain, he thought.

That evening, thoughts raced through Felicio’s mind. "Will there be lots of people in the chapel the next day, Felicio wondered. Will everything go smoothly? I’ve waited and rehearsed for this great moment for so long! I hope everything will turn out well", he prayed. Felicio's dream of serving the Holy Mass in Latin was soon going to be realized, and he momentarily felt happy with that thought.

Proceeding to his study table, Felicio sat on the chair. He retrieved the small prayer book from the top of the bookshelf. It had been the centre of his attention the entire week. He had been trying hard to memorize all his responses.

Felicio reached for the knurled wheel of the chimney lamp and carefully turned up the wick to brighten up the room for yet one more reading. He was concerned about memorising and delivering the right corresponding responses. Opening the slim booklet ‘Modo de Ajudar à Missa em Latim’, he read out loud his responses to what the priest’s opening line would be the next morning, “Introibo altare Dei”. He followed this with ‘Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam’, ‘Sursum corda...Habemus ad Dominum’, ‘Grátias agámus Dómino Deo nostro’… Digno et justum estSed libera nos a malo’...‘Et clamor meus ad te veniat’, and the most unforgettable of them all (Dominus vobiscum)…“Et cum spiritu tuo”, and so on. In a short time he had finished the practice for the final day.

Rising early the next morning, Felicio wore his favourite blue shirt that his mother had stitched specially for the occasion while the ‘vaddtea angar’ (Konkani, literal meaning: for the growing body) short trousers, tailored the previous year, still fitted well. Felicio’s mother accompanied him to the chapel. He had to report to the sacristan at least twenty minutes prior to the Mass for some important instructions from the sacristan.

“Good morning, Father,” said Joao-Francis and Felicio in unison to the chaplain, as they rose from the bench when he entered the sacristy. “Good morning to you, too. Are you boys all set? We’ll begin in a short while”, said the priest as he began donning the vestments. “We are right on time.”

Felicio was happy that overall everything was going well so far. And soon they accompanied the priest walking gently to the main altar of the chapel from the sacristy. The bells rang and the Latin Mass was about to begin. The last time Felicio had walked the same way was a year ago when he had received his First Holy Communion.

‘In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti’. ‘Introibo altare Dei’ the priest’s voice echoed through the chapel. And Felicio heard his own voice loud and clear for he first time in the stillness with his very first response: ‘Ad Deum laetificat juventutem meam’. He had no trouble delivering the rest of the responses just like his mother had encouraged and predicted. She had been very supportive as usual. Perhaps she must have been praying for him right at that moment.

He had managed to pour just the right amount of wine into the chalice, rang the bell at the precise time for the ‘Sanctus’ and successfully carried the missal along with the stand from one side of the altar to the other. He had also steadily poured water over the priest’s fingers as he washed them and there had been no sound of any cruets clashing together. His partner and himself had also bowed and genuflected in tandem, as they alternatively stood and knelt on the polished white marble floor. Felicio’s biggest fear was not to trip while climbing or getting down the steps to the altar. He was grateful that his partner has trained him well and that Padre Capelão had been very kind an understanding.

Felicio’s great moment was yet to come and that would be when people would line up to receive Holy Communion. He accompanied the priest as he proceeded to the front pews as the folks knelt to receive. Just then Felicio noticed his mother standing in the line. Soon she would be kneeling for her turn.

It was a moment of great pride and joy as he held the communion serving paten under his mother’s chin. Felicio was happy that he had taken part in serving his mother. His mother’s wish was granted that her son had learned to serve Mass. He had now officially become an ‘ajudante’. With a quick glance he was surprised to see his relatives and neighbours in the queue. There were hints of sustained smiles. Perhaps, Felicio thought, his mother must have requested them to attend the Mass in order to give a big surprise to ‘the new altar boy in a blue shirt’.

After the Mass, they all walked home together. It had been the beginning of a great day indeed for Felicio and for all the members of his family. His mother had prepared a special lunch as well.

The Latin Mass continued for another few more years. It was then replaced by a New Order of the Mass when the priest faced the people. In a way, it must have been good so that the priest could constantly keep an eye on his flock during the service, as opposed to the days of the Latin Mass when Padre Capelão along with his flock, the sacristan, the altar boys and the singers in the choir, had all stood facing in one direction – towards the altar – lifting up their hearts.

Sursum corda! (Latin)
Lift up your hearts!

Tony Felix (aka Felicio) Fernandes
Guirim, Cumbiem Morod,
Bardez, Goa, India.

Sunday, May 10, 2009


The following poem is not my own,
but it is one of my favourite poems.
Its author is unknown.
It is dedicated to all the mothers in the world.

Mother's Hands

Such beautiful, beautiful hands! she had
Though her heart at times was weary and sad
Those patient hands kept toiling on
That her children might be glad.
I almost weep when looking back
To chilhood's distant day!
I think how my mother's hands rested not
When mine were always busy at their play.

FOR MAMA (1964)
Sung by Matt Monro

To listen please press 'Play' and turn up the volume

She said my son I beg of you
I have a wish that must come true
The last thing you can do
For mama

Please promise me that you will stay
And take my place while I'm away
And give the children love each day
I had to cry what could I say?

How hard I tried to find the words
I prayed she would not see me cry
So much to say that should be heard
But only time to say goodbye to mama

They say in time that you will forget
Yet still today my eyes are wet
I tell myself to smile for Mama

Now soon there'll be another spring
And I will start remembering
The way she loved to hear us sing
Her favourite song 'Ave Maria'

Ave Maria

The children all have grown up now
I kept my promise to mama
I cannot guide them anymore
I've done my best all for mama

Ave Maria

Still this seems so very small
For all
She did for me

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Thursday, May 07, 2009


THE CUSTOM – Shirt for New Year

It was a day of great joy for all the boys in the school. It was the last day of the academic year. One last examination paper remained to be answered. And that would be all. It was a half-day session.

The previous night all the boarders would pack their suitcases ready to load them the next afternoon straight on the bus. As the last paper was answered, which would always invariably be “Religion”, there were wide smiles on all the students' faces.

The buses were slowly climbing up the hill to take the boarding students home for their summer holidays. These transport buses were especially hired to take them to their respective home districts in Goa. The engines of the buses laboured very hard to climb the slopes of the spiral road up the hill. They could be heard right up in the classrooms just below the chapel.

Felicio was a dayscholar. He did not have any packing to do or a bus to board. He lived in Guirim. He had just to walk home two miles away.

Felicio wrote the last few lines on his answer paper. He had almost finished writing his paper when, as he glanced towards the side doors the school clerk walked into the class. The clerk then turned towards him and whispered in his ear: “The Principal would like to see you after the exam is over”. “Alright, Sir,” Felicio replied.

The clerk walked away and Felicio wondered: Why would the principal want to see him? He was worried. He could almost hear his heart beating faster. He could hardly hold his hand steady as he wrote the last line. Suddenly, he seemed to have lost his smile. Did he do anything wrong? Would he be punished? Did he fare badly in the subjects that he had already answered? He had no idea.

He was also anxious to wish goodbye to fellow students and then head home. He wondered whether he could do that before meeting the Principal. Felicio was afraid that his class students might leave before he got back from the Principal's office. So he hastily said good-bye to all his friends wishing them happy holidays and ran up the several flights of steps to the Principal’s office on the top of the hill. He stopped suddenly a few feet from the door. Gasping for breath and trying to get back his composure, he tried to remain as calm as he could.“Hello there young lad, come in” the Principal said as they boy felt his knees tremble. “Here’s something for you.”

What is it? Is it a gift, Felicio wondered. “Take this, it is a gift from us” said the Principal. "Open it", he continued. His hand shaking, Felicio opened it unsteadily. There it was. He could not believe his eyes. It was a pair of shirts and short trousers that made part of the set of the school uniform for the new year.

“This is for you to use in the next academic year”, the Principal said. “Tell your mother that it is a gift from the Fathers and Brothers at Monte. I know that your mother works very hard. I know sometimes it is hard for her to pay your fees. It breaks my heart to see some boys being sent home at times on account of the delay in payment of school fees”. “Tell her not to have any uniforms tailored for you during the holidays for the next year.” “You have done quite well this year my boy.” "Keep on studying hard."

The young boy almost froze as he stood there in silence. Tears ran down his cheeks. He thought about his mother. She would be very happy to hear the news. He wanted to fly home if he could to tell her about what the Principal had said.

So, anxious as he was to get home, he thanked the Principal, shook hands and was ready to leave. “Don’t go”, he said, “here’s something especially for you from me. It is a water-colour box. I know you like to draw and paint. I am sure you will like it. Have a nice painting done during your holidays for me. It will look nice on that blank wall there in my office”, the Principal joked. The boy shook hands, almost genuflected and hurried down the slope clutching his prized possession, out of the courtyard of the Principal's office.

The boarding students were all ready to leave for home. There were a lot of buses, a lot of din; their drivers trying hard in negotiating to reverse and park on the steep slopes. There was hardly any place for them to make a turn and head back. Some big boys helped in placing bricks behind the tires - chocking them to prevent the huge buses from rolling back.

As the buses started to leave, some of the boys threw confetti, cut out of old exercise books, through the windows of the buses. Felicio was happy that the buses had not left yet so he could wave out to his friends. “Good-bye”, he shouted above the roar of the whirring engines. “Enjoy your holidays.” “See you in June, best of luck in the results of the finals", someone said behind him.

Was Felicio forgetting something? Of course he was. How could he forget. So then he ran to see the school clerk who had whispered the Principal’s message in his ear just a while ago. After he thanked and told him how frightened he was, the clerk told Felicio that he would like to share with him a little secret that it was customary for the school to present a set of school uniform to deserving students who worked hard and whose parents could barely afford their school expenses. He was touched by the clerk's message. He looked back as he walked out of his office, still dazed from what had transpired a little while ago.

Felicio started his journey home. He walked faster than usual on that hot April afternoon. It was quite a distance but on that day he felt that had walked much less than the actual two miles he did everyday along the winding path through the fields and villages. As he briefly stopped and turned to look at his alma mater high up on the hill behind him, he could still read the famous bold capital letters right across the façade: ST. ANTHONY'S HIGH SCHOOL. Above those letters on the left was the acronym A.D. and on the right was the year 1947. What a coincidence, and how lucky he was, he thought, that in fact his first name was Anthony and he was born in 1947. He paused for a moment, turned and started walking homeward again.

He jumped precisely on the laterite stepping stones across the shallow rivulet that he crossed everyday. Felicio's mother would be waiting for him to have lunch together that afternoon. She would probably cook something special today for sure, he mused to himself. He too would have his own special surprise for her. Would she cry like he did when he handed her the gift? Would she have tears of joy when he tells her what the Principal had said? All these thoughts raced quickly through his mind as he walked home. He tried to shield his face from the blinding glare of the mid-day afternoon sun with the palm of his hand. The hot earth pierced through the soles of his feet. In a short while he would be home. No more school for some time.

In the distance Felicio could see his mother, sitting outside on a low stool, in the shade of the guava tree at the back of his house, waiting for him. The boy wondered whether his mother would guess what the packet he was carrying in his hand contained. She probably would not, he thought. He walked slowly towards her holding the packet behind his back. He handed it to her and asked her to open it.

Felicio's mother opened it slowly and carefully, showing a big surprised look on her face. She could certainly not believe her eyes. She then said: “May God bless the Capuchin Friars of Monte de Guirim”. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged and kissed her son.

And Felicio said to himself: “I knew my guess would be right! I was certain my mother would cry!”

She did cry. I know that for sure because I was there. She was my mother. I was that boy.

Excerpted from my book:
Goa - Memories of My Homeland
(Poems and Stories)
by Tony Felix (Felicio) Fernandes
Ex-student 1953-1964

Tuesday, May 05, 2009


Bro. Peter - The Healing Friar of Monte de Guirim

It is with great sadness that I learned about the death of Bro. Peter Ratos.

Bro. Peter Ratos, OFM Cap., was in charge of the "Infirmary" at St. Anthony's High School, Monte de Guirim, Bardez, Goa. He was already there at Monte in the year 1953 when I joined the school. He served there for many more years after that before moving on to the Capuchin Minor Seminary at Navelim. He celebrated his 100th birthday recently.

Boarding students who fell ill would be entrusted into his care. The Infirmary was equipped with beds for sick students. It was located away from the classrooms. Students would be confined to these quarters until they fully recovered and were fit to attend classes. He was also in charge of the vaccinations/inoculations that were regularly carried out at the school. Students were also given medical check-ups, and age, heights and weight were recorded under his supervision.

During the afternoon recess we often played on the terrace below the Refectory. Should any of the students get injured or happened to have a bruise from a fall, they would immediately run to Bro. Peter who would dab tincture, ointment, antisepetic or apply a band-aid.

But most of all what he was best known for was his cure for the deadly snake bites. These cures were nothing short of miracles. Brother Peter was a simple and humble friar, and completely dedicated to a way of life of caring for students and the folks around Goa in the true sense of the word. He never bragged of his prowess. He did not boast of his competence nor did he expect any reward or demand money in return. People had faith in him. He cured all for free. He was well respected for his humility and his special ability in his field. He had a remedy for them all.

He must have certainly been bestowed by the Almighty with the powers of healing just by touch and prayers. The medicine he applied or prescribed must be acting as a go-between - a mediator and a catalyst.

What a great and long life of dedicated service to humanity. He lived a cool hundred years. Definitely a great healer of a bygone era, Brother Peter Ratos, the healing Capuchin Friar of Monte de Guirim.

Requiescat In Pace, Bro. Peter Ratos.My sincere condolences to relatives, friends, students and Friars at Monte de Guirim.

Tony Fernandes
Ex-Student, S.A.H.S.
Monte de Guirim
Class of 1964

Sunday, May 03, 2009


(Some of my experiences)

And then just recently at a craft show, there was this couple who walked into our booth. They browsed around and then they started to read all the labels on the jars loudly. After they had finished reading them all, they said the labels looked very nice, but couldn’t take a jar home because the wife just can’t stand turmeric, mother- in-law is allergic to vinegar, and the husband’s system cannot handle garlic.
The only one who simply adores pickles is their son. And he is out of town.

A lone ranger walks into our booth. Tries 4 types of relishes. Says he likes them all, but right now can’t find his wife who he believes a little while ago was apparently sampling away at another booth nearby. Then he walked away saying he will be sending his wife as soon as he finds her.
But she never showed up. I guess her husband never found her.

Some people are rich and well-off. They have a lot of money. They could afford to spend tons of cash. They also have deep pockets where they keep their money, but shorter arms.

We never put any pressure on customers. But this over 6 ft. chap was staring at our products for a good 5 minutes from 6 feet away out in the aisle. Thinking that he might have been feeling awkward to ask for a sample I took the liberty to ask him if I could offer a sample.

“No,” the customer replied, “Sorry, I’m full”.

Full? Did he think I was offering him lunch?