Then I was told that there was a cobbler near the police station,t hat would mend it. Fine. But where was it?! Ed had a really good look one day, wandering around all of the streets, then we both did together. No sign of a cobbler. We rang a few people, but either they didn’t know, or they weren’t in!
Finally, in desperation, I asked a lady in the tobacconists where the shop was, that would mend a bag (I didn’t know the Spanish word for cobbler). She came out of the shop, and pointed down the street, naming a shop half way down. Excellent – it must be hidden in the back of the shop – which certainly had an odd collection of things in the window! In we went, and asked if the man would mend the bag. His expression said it all! We were obviously in the wrong place! Thankfully, he understood, and pointed us in the right direction. Opposite his shop, was another street, and the place we needed was half way up there. (at least, that was what I understood!) We bimbled up, but this appeared to be residences only. Then suddenly, peering through a house window, I spotted shoes and polish! This was it. As we reached for the door, I noticed the previous shop keeper watching us, and waved to him as we went in!
Inside the house, we discovered that the first room at the front of the house was the cobblers. Inside, sat a little man, mending a coat. I asked if he could mend the bag, and he said yes – come back in 1 hour. If he had told me his name was Rumplestitlskin I would have believed him! Ed thought that when he said ‘1 hour’ that was all he had left to live!
An hour later, we returned, and his wife let us in. He was on the toilet! She asked us to indicate what we wanted. Sadly, there was nothing interesting worth taking! We pointed out the correct bag, but she had no idea how much to charge. She had to go and ask him, through the bathroom door! 2€ later, Ed was the proud owner of a repaired bumbag, and very happy with it too.
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