So I took a picture as I was leaving and I zoomed in on the shop at the end . . . ahem . . . oh will you look at that, it’s Thorntons! You know I hadn’t realised, fancy that being there . . . Anyway I noticed a fuzzy blur in the window. I filled the flash a bit and lo, I found a man – a bearded man with a big smile.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuy291gumllIj4WZdrUWQhngSvpqztojt4SlhH6Q91SlaUSUVNZEJYhkAK5lh5ecAhYzNaJc3CDOfKUuvhljZIxhOg3O2ZQB1PTyIuV9oCQ9QecSJZKGF-qKteXqz3pRGEtDmikLx5nM/s400/Reflection.jpg)
I find it amazing and a bit magical that he was there in the original picture even though I couldn’t see him.
So why is he smiling? Does he work there? Has he just sold a gigantic box of chocs? Or is he buying a gift for someone and smiling because he’s imagining how pleased she’s going to be.
“What’s this? But you know I’m on a diet! How could you?”
“I’ll take them back.”
“Get your hands off. I’ll have to eat them now. See I’ve opened them . . . nom yum mmmem . . . stupid man . . . chomp slurp. My mother was right about you . . . I never did like that beard . . . yumm ummph shlurrrp.”
Or perhaps he’s a ghost. The building is old. Maybe he flits round before the shop opens smelling the chocolate and wishing he was still alive to eat it.
Well all this speculation is a waste of time as the bearded man in the shop is actually a reflection of the man walking past – who hasn’t even got a beard (you’ll have to take my word for it as I’ve fuzzed his face since the poor chap didn’t ask to be splattered all over my blog!).
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30DBXeEt_VssVQqZWQF-XHiHGkPX6rCjuOIaMzEt0Ny9V_82SbnYmfReuEg8DYw0AcsRd8wDge-7wDtG4MZn9md4YhC14puv570kAvsFDPWu-_IP734f08IlLCRwQXr2w6jrfRjvBiVM/s400/Tower2.jpg)
How disappointing, but on the other hand it’s all ink in the writer’s pen isn’t it?
So why is he smiling? Does he work there? Has he just sold a gigantic box of chocs? Or is he buying a gift for someone and smiling because he’s imagining how pleased she’s going to be.
“What’s this? But you know I’m on a diet! How could you?”
“I’ll take them back.”
“Get your hands off. I’ll have to eat them now. See I’ve opened them . . . nom yum mmmem . . . stupid man . . . chomp slurp. My mother was right about you . . . I never did like that beard . . . yumm ummph shlurrrp.”
Or perhaps he’s a ghost. The building is old. Maybe he flits round before the shop opens smelling the chocolate and wishing he was still alive to eat it.
Well all this speculation is a waste of time as the bearded man in the shop is actually a reflection of the man walking past – who hasn’t even got a beard (you’ll have to take my word for it as I’ve fuzzed his face since the poor chap didn’t ask to be splattered all over my blog!).
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj30DBXeEt_VssVQqZWQF-XHiHGkPX6rCjuOIaMzEt0Ny9V_82SbnYmfReuEg8DYw0AcsRd8wDge-7wDtG4MZn9md4YhC14puv570kAvsFDPWu-_IP734f08IlLCRwQXr2w6jrfRjvBiVM/s400/Tower2.jpg)
How disappointing, but on the other hand it’s all ink in the writer’s pen isn’t it?