The Princess at the Servo

* A “Servo”, for those who don’t speak Australian English, is a Petrol/Service Station, usually with a small convenience store attached.

Mummy couldn't find a sitter when she got called into work because someone was out sick, so I had to go in with her.

I didn't like to go to work with Mummy, and I don't think Mummy likes it either. I have to stay behind the counter all day, and there are a lot of things that I can't touch, snacks I can't eat, and people I'm not supposed to talk to. I know not to talk to strangers, but Mummy talks to them, so how do I know they are strangers?

It's boring, and there isn't anything to do, but at least Mummy let me bring a few toys with me, and I got to wear my spider-man t-shirt.

The clock moves slowly. The first hour - I know because the small hand moves, just like on Play School - we have several grumpy people come in. They aren't happy about being awake this early on a Saturday. Neither is Mummy, I want to tell them, but they aren't interested in talking.

Then a princess walked in.

She looks happy, as she gets several bottles out of the big fridges and brings them to Mummy. She smiles and asks about Mummy's day, and Mummy's smile looks a little less forced, not like when she was smiling at the grumpy people.

Princesses are gentle and kind, and none of the ones in the stories Mummy read me ever scolded children for talking to them.

I hurried around the counter while Mummy was too busy handing back change to stop me, my turtle balanced on my sleeve. It didn't stay balanced for very long, and I had to stop to pick it up. The last lady I tried to show my turtle to had left before I could show her, but the princess waited paitently.

Mummy looks cross; she always tells me not to bother customers. The princess smiles, though, and leans down. "What's that you have?"

See, Mummy? A princess wouldn't be upset! "It's my turtle."

An earlier customer had said that my turtle was silly and told me to go away. The princess didn't. "They must be a lucky turtle, to have you looking after them."

The turtle was plastic, it didn't need too much looking after, but I was careful to make sure that it wasn't lonely and never got stepped on. I never lost it, either. So I supposed that I did look after my turtle.

I nodded eagerly, and showed her my spider-man shirt. "I have a spider-man hoodie."

I meant that it showed that I was responsible, like a superhero, even if I didn't save the world, but the princess gasped. "Does that mean that your turtle is a baby ninja turtle?"

I was about to correct her, but Mummy laughed, and I got distracted. The princess smiled and tucked her wallet away. "Have a lovely day, both of you."

She was a princess, not a witch, but the rest of Mummy's shift did seem a little better, until we got to go home.

A lot of my free time is spent doing Historical re-enactment, and when I'm running around in Medieval clothes of varying fanciness, there will often be at least one small child who decides that I'm a fairytale princess come to life.

If it helps them keep the magic in their lives a little longer, I'm happy to play along. They're kids, it isn't hurting anyone, and if some harried parent gets a break from grumpiness, then it's a win/win in my book.

This is an encounter in a small country town, where I stopped for petrol and drinks on my way to the twice-yearly Crown Tournament.

The following day, I scandalised some early risers at the hotel by helping a fellow re-enactor button his doublet in the parking lot.

(No inuendo: he was wearing the kind of medieval shirt with lots of buttons on the sleeves that are really hard to do up one-handed, and I have the kind of long fingers that are good at fiddly things.)