Feeling a bit pink in Downham Market

Shopkeepers in the North are nice
They ask after your kids and wife
And when you've had a good chinwag
they pop your provisions in your bag.

"Shopkeepers in the North are Nice" by John Shuttleworth.

I guess John Shuttleworth has never been to Downham Market, as he might then change his song to "Shopkeepers in the North (and East) are Nice". Downham Market seems to have been in a timewarp for 30 years as it is still full of useful shops, a novelty in such a small town. They either become useless-shops-for-tourists or the-same-shops-as-everywhere-else shops. When I was a wee lad, my local town of Bromsgrove used to have useful shops, but by the time I was a teenager it was getting close to The Shoe Event Horizon with every other shop being a shoe shop. Now it is full of generic high street stores.

Downham Market on the other hand still has a butcher, a baker and, although there is no manufacturer of wax-based illumination holders, I'm sure you could buy a really nice candlestick somewhere. The car parks are free, the old people are never grumpy, the gangs of teenagers politely move out of your way, the pizzas are really juicy, the vets know your pet's name on sight, you can buy just the right size of washer for that leaking tap, and you can be amused by a lawnmower store called "Lawn-boy". Well, it amuses me anyway.

I needed a new refill for an unmarked (but rather splendid) pen and rather than face the ignorance of a Saturday girl in King's Lynn, I went to the teeny-tiny stationery shop in Downham Market, showed them the mysterious refill and they instantly went straight for the correct replacement with a smile and a brief chat about the weather. I left the shop with a small brown paper bag containing my purchase and a warm glow of customer satisfaction. I like the cakes from the bakers as well. You buy a innocent looking small chocolate delight and a little banana cake from the jolly lady, get them home, unwrap them and then gasp in amazement at their sheer size. They must grow between shop and home, or else I become the size of a Borrower upon leaving the bakers.

The last time I was in Downham Market I went to the Post Office to send a package. Again Downham Market has a different sort of Post Office. There was no queue and three open hatches each with a happily smiling lady eager to serve. I dumped my keys down while manhandling the parcel onto the scales, paying the lady and talking about the weather. Upon leaving I heard another customer, a man say "Excuse me, are these your keys?", turned and saw my keys dangling from his hand. Once more Mr. Brain had failed to remind me to pick up my keys.

"Yes they are mine, thanks" said I, retrieving my keys, only to hear him say "Oh, I did wonder, because of the pink key".

I was somewhat nonplussed, and left swiftly.

So, is a man not allowed to have a pink key? Was this guy trying to imply something? Should I mention that he had a moustache and a medallion or would I then be accused of implying something? Answers please on a postcard to:

Boolbar
Downham Market's Big Gay Post Office
Norfolk