Our village has one main shop, The Dola Rosa, named after the road that Jesus supposedly walked with his cross. It is open whenever the owners are awake, with the exception of Sunday morning, when all good residents go to repent their sins and be saved until next week. It has a prime location in the middle of town, next to the oval and church, and has grown from a tiny 2m x 2m wooden box ten years ago, to a purpose built room with shelving, a window and a front verandah. The family have amassed quite a wad of cash and sunk it into a huge, ugly house, totally tiled inside and out (even the gable ends). The shop has minimal stock control and no idea of supply and demand; shopping is like a lucky dip.
There is nothing fresh for sale, only dry goods of the highly processed kind, toiletries, cleaning products, bike parts, hardware, building products and fuel. There are no specials, no prices and no check-outs, but always a friendly smile behind the counter.
Fuel supplies have been unreliable of late, and currently the shop is out of stock. Like a pub with no beer. Eventually all of the motorbikes run dry, the back-up generator stops, batteries go flat, peace returns to the street and we are plunged into darkness. Lovely.