Free Advice

I've often dreamt of opening a cafe. Or a shop. Preferably an emporium. Stocked with lots of pretty and useless things - a woman's shop, my husband hisses. He hates shops like this: when I drag him into one, he plonks his considerable height and, (after a week of unbridled Snickers-noshing while I was in Scotland,) his not-inconsiderable girth in a corner and buzzes with disapproval, like a wasp in a jar. Obviously, I haven't shared my Post-Lottery-Win-Plan # 7 with him yet (= Open Shop Full of Handmade, Organic, Once-Off Crafty Items. But this plan only works if you've won the lottery and are under no pressure to make anything nasty, like, say, a profit.)

However, whilst in Scotland, I had a brainwave. I could still open a shop, but by choosing the right kind of shop, I could dispense with capital and inventory - I could sell advice! Look, see, someone's doing it already!

This is a true reflection of the weather in Scotland. If this were my shop,
I'd be outside saying, "You should've brought an umbrella!" and pocketing 50p for my wisdom.
The shop owners ought to recognise these opportunities.

I've started compiling some of the gems of my wisdom on Post-Its and random bits of scrap paper, but I thought I'd give my loyal readers a kind of foretaste of what folks will want to pay big bucks for in the future:

No Matter How Many Eventualities You Think You Have Covered, Something Unexpected Will Still Happen
Par exemple: today the US President, Mr Obama, paid a flying visit to Moneygall (the 300-soul village his great x 3-grandda came from) and Dublin. Hot on the heels of Queen Elizabeth, who popped over for her first visit to the Irish Republic last week, security was on red alert. The American secret service had been combing the Irish countryside for weeks in advance (no lie) and poor Mr O had to deliver his speech to the crowds in Dublin in a goldfish-bowl of bullet-proof glass. Everywhere he went, he was surrounded by security, his team were prepared for attacks of every possible kind - chemical weapons. Snipers. Bomb threats by all manner of radical groups. Over-amorous senior citizens.

Despite WEEKS of preparation and MILLIONS spent on creating a safe little bubble for the American visitors, the presidential car couldn't make it over the ramp at the American Embassy. In fact, to the delight of the waiting crowd (who laughed and cheered, and shouted, "Do yiz need a push, Barack?"), the Fancy Car was scuppered by a simple ramp. I bet that's one thing the combined forces of the Irish and American Secret Services had not thought of. (And I could've charged them for that advice and made a packet! Darn it! Opportunity lost!)

Evidence on YouTube here!