The Post Office and Shop. reload this page?

The Post Office and shop is next door to the Charity Shop. Outside in the street an old streetlamp flickers and hums. Round the corner, if you look carefully, is the little house where the Penguin Brothers live.

'Posty' the Post Office bear sits on the counter and watches the strange collection of parcels and letters that people send and receive. Some of which are for the bears, these he slips to one side for his own special delivery.

The Penguin brothers displaced the air in the corner of the Post Office, blinking occasionally without expression, motionless and iceberg white, peppered with empty black eyes staring blankly.
The Brothers never stood in the queue; they just waited their turn patiently in the corner of the room.
The queue for a place at the counter was moving even slower than usual for a Monday afternoon. Mr Posty was trying hard to keep pace with the ever-lengthening rope of people as they steadily and continually attached themselves to the ragged end. The small doorway to the Post Office and shop now crowded and blocked.

Above the door of the shop hangs a small, carved stone gargoyle. It is quite old and plain and no one really notices it as they come and go with their parcels and letters, pickle and jams, sardines and sweets, cards and wrapping paper.
The gargoyle rests peacefully on its ledge comfortably frozen in time with a view of the square and the trees and the houses and the people and the bears.

Outside in the grey, a dark grey of an autumn dusk, the faulty streetlight flickered and buzzed on the street corner. From the gloom and the cold suddenly scratchy, clattery, clanky sounds mixed with cries and squeaks and barks and then silence. The people of the rope turned and looked and peered and strained on tiptoes to see the commotion outside.

“It’s that streetlight again”, announced the lady inside the door at the back of the queue.
“Poor Ms Crotchet almost dropped her parcel.”
“What was the clanking?” asked a boy. The lady at the door rotated awkwardly on one foot to see.
“It looks like Sherbet with a tin” she replied.