Jak's blog
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At the beginning of this year, I secretly took hubby’s old leather jacket from the cupboard and drove it to the Leather Shop in Street to have the old ripped lining replaced and give it a new lease of life.

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They said they’d have to send it away and they ‘d call me when it was ready. It was going to be for hubby’s birthday in March, but when I retrieved it in early February I thought he should get it early and get the benefit of it for longer in the cold weather. He was really impressed with his Valentine’s Day present.

In the recent spell of cold weather I asked him why he hadn’t been wearing it. He was a bit shame-faced as he said that he’d broken the zip and couldn’t do it up. I was determined that the £60 I’d spent in the spring wasn’t going to be for nothing. So, last Saturday morning, off I went to Street again. They didn’t seem pleased to see me in the Leather Shop.

“Well, yes. We could get it done for you but it would take at least two weeks. We have to send it off the Bournemouth and then it has to get back here again. I’d have to charge you £69 for that.”

It seemed an awful lot of money, more than I’d paid to have the complete jacket lining redone.

“Actually, where I live is about half way to Bournemouth from here. Is there any chance you could put me in touch with the repairer?”

The shopkeeper visibly brightened. “Oh yes. She’s called Jan and she works at Spotless. I’ll give you her number and then it won’t have anything to do with us. You can arrange it between yourselves.” I have no idea why this made his day, other than he was rather a greying elderly man, so perhaps he was tired of doing jobs like that.

Anyway, it was a lovely excuse to get hubby to take part of a morning off, and take the hour long drive to Bournemouth with him. This is a very rare occurrence and one which I decided to make the most of. Tuesday mornings are usually very quiet for him but sods law was in force, for I had to turn down several taxi jobs for him as the Merc bowled along the country lanes that are our most direct route to the eastern edge of Bournemouth. We took zig-zag hill out of Shaftesbury and pulled up through golden woodland into dense cloud that obscured the wonderful views of rolling hillsides from the ridge at the top. Even the mist couldn’t dampen my enthusiasm for this lovely drive ahead.

I knew roughly how to find the Spotless dry cleaning shop, and we arrived at the same time as Jan, at about 9.45.

“I know you’ve come a fair way,” she said. “I’ll do it right away and save you a second trip. Just come back in about an hour or so.”

It was just enough time to pay a call on a friend who lived near there. I’d been concerned about her as I couldn’t get through to her on the phone, and I knew she had a dicky heart. It was a big relief when she answered my ring at her door completely hale and hearty, if a bit bemused at our unexpected visit. The problem had been that I’d misread a five for an eight in the phone number – silly me.

We collected the jacket at about 11.15. The price was £30, less than half the quote at Street, so I was very pleased with myself. It felt like I’d killed two birds with one stone, with a little help from my other half.

And I think I can say that good service is alive and well, at least in a little shop in Christchurch Road, Bournemouth, UK.

The picture is of Bournemouth Town Hall and is by Graffity at Wikimedia Commons. I'm not sure why it has turned out so small.