Story 148: Reza Shadey and the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat who once attempted to correct the entire British economy.
It began, as many of Reza Shadey's interventions did, with Mrs Higgins's radio.
She was buttering her toast in the kitchen when the announcer said:
"Today, the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street is expected to comment on inflation..."
Reza froze mid-lick.
His emerald eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"An Old Lady", he whispered slowly, tail beginning to puff like a startled dandelion.
"On a street. Managing inflation. And no one consulted me..."
Penelope, washing her paw neatly by the patio door, did not even glance up.
"Rezzi", she said gently, "that's just a nickname for The Bank of England. It isn't actually run by an old lady."
But Reza was already leaping onto the garden table (carefully avoiding the marmalade, because even visionaries have standards).
"This cannot stand! Inflation is a delicate art. A science! A whisker-based discipline! I shall travel to Threadneedle Street and advise this elderly rate-adjuster at once!"
Ginger Tom blinked from his nap spot on the fence.
"Is there food on Threadneedle Street?"
Tiger bounced three times in pure excitement, nearly knocking over a flowerpot.
"Are we going on a mission? Can I bring snacks? Can I be Chief Monetary Bouncer?"
Penelope sighed. It was the sigh of a cat who had long ago accepted that resistance was futile.
But Reza was already assigning roles.
"Penelope — Chief of Sensible Oversight. Ginger Tom — Minister of Snack Reserves. Tiger — Supreme Inflation Bouncer. And I", he declared, leaping dramatically onto the highest point of the garden bench, "shall be Governor of Everything."
Tiger gasped with pride.
And so, not long after, four small shapes slipped under the hedge, padded down the pavement, and arrived at the bus stop just as the 47 rumbled into view.
The doors opened with a hiss.
Reza stood tall.
"Remember. We are undercover."
Tiger attempted to hide behind a lamppost.
London is a busy place, and four determined cats can achieve remarkable things when humans are distracted by shopping bags and glowing rectangles. In they darted — between legs, past a pram, up the stairs to the top deck.
Reza stood on the seat (despite the sign very clearly saying not to), peering importantly out the window as buses and bicycles whizzed past.
"Observe", he declared in his most resonant lecture voice, "a city trembling under questionable financial supervision."
Ginger Tom unwrapped a biscuit he had absolutely not declared at customs.
"Looks fine to me."
Tiger pressed his nose to the glass, leaving a perfect foggy star. "That building's shiny! That pigeon's fat! That man's hat's funny!"
Penelope simply watched the skyline roll by with the serene patience of someone who had, indeed, seen this film before.
At last the bus slowed near a grand stone building with tall columns and extremely serious doors.
"This", said Reza in a hushed tone, "must be her headquarters."
They stood before the Bank of England.
Reza gazed up dramatically.
"The Old Lady clearly resides within. Possibly upstairs. Possibly surrounded by gold."
Penelope opened her mouth.
"Rezzi, it's just a nick..."
But Reza had already spotted something far more convincing.
On a bench nearby sat an elderly woman in a neat coat and sensible shoes. She was knitting calmly, a small flock of pigeons gathered at her feet. A paper bag of seeds rested beside her.
Reza's whiskers trembled with revelation.
"There", he breathed. "The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street."
He smoothed his fur, cleared his throat, and leapt gracefully onto the bench beside her. The pigeons fluttered but did not flee — clearly they recognised authority.
"Madam", he began, "I am Reza Shadey, sovereign economist of Catford and inventor of Reza-Quids."
The woman blinked kindly at him over her spectacles.
"I have come to discuss your inflationary behaviour. I understand you are raising rates. This is disruptive to snack liquidity."
The woman continued knitting.
Reza raised a paw.
"Inflation happens when lots of people want the same thing... and there isn't enough of it. For example, if one sunflower seed cost one whisker last week and three whiskers today, clearly someone has mismanaged supply."
A pigeon pecked enthusiastically at the remaining seeds.
There were many pigeons.
Only a few seeds.
The old lady paused her knitting and looked down.
"Well", she said gently, "if lots of pigeons want seeds and there aren't enough seeds to go around, the seeds become more expensive."
Silence.
Even the pigeons paused.
Tiger's eyes widened.
"Ohhhh."
He counted on his paws.
"So if everyone wants biscuits... and there are only two biscuits... the biscuits cost more?"
"That's right, dear."
Ginger Tom clutched his biscuit like a long-term investment.
Reza blinked.
Too many pigeons.
Not enough seeds.
Lots of wanting.
Not enough having.
The price goes up.
"Precisely", he said smoothly. "Demand exceeding supply. Exactly as I was explaining."
Penelope's whiskers twitched.
The old lady added kindly, "And sometimes things cost more to make. If the seed sellers have to pay more for birdseed, they charge more too."
Reza nodded gravely.
"Cost pressures. External shocks. Elevated seed volatility."
Tiger gasped. "Seedflation!"
"And if someone prints too many Reza-Quids", Penelope added sweetly, "they might not be worth very much."
Reza cleared his throat.
"I once printed an entire series of Reza-Quids. They are currently worth less than the damp leaf they were printed on. This was clearly a temporary trust fluctuation."
The old lady resumed knitting.
Tiger leaned closer.
"So inflation means stuff costs more because lots of people want it and there isn't enough?"
"Yes", said Penelope gently.
"Yes", said the old lady.
"Yes", said Reza, with magnificent authority. "Which is why wise leadership is essential."
Ginger Tom coughed.
Soon they were back on the 47 bus, trundling home.
Reza sat very upright, gazing thoughtfully out the window.
Penelope nudged him.
"Well?"
He flicked his tail with composed dignity.
"I have successfully clarified inflation for the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street", he announced. "She now understands that when many desire limited resources, prices rise."
"That's what she said", murmured Ginger Tom.
"Exactly", said Reza. "I seeded the concept. She merely quoted me."
Tiger bounced.
"Are we going to inflate cuddle prices?"
Reza considered this carefully.
"Hmmm. Yes. Effective immediately: hugs now require two compliments instead of one. High demand. Limited supply."
Back in Catford, they slipped through the hedge just as Mrs Higgins opened the back door.
"There you are! Playing nicely?"
"Very nicely", said Penelope.
Reza strolled past with magnificent calm.
"National service", he murmured.
That night, curled in his doughnut bed, warm and entirely satisfied, Reza purred softly.
The economy of the United Kingdom remained completely unchanged.
But somewhere on Threadneedle Street, an old lady continued knitting, perfectly unbothered.
And Reza Shadey slept soundly, convinced he had once again stabilised the nation.
Mrs Higgins says: Money can be tricky, little ones. When lots of people want the same things and there aren't enough to go around, those things cost more. It's called inflation. The best way to understand it is to share nicely and look after what we have! And parents, for legal reasons, this is not financial advice!
Night night. Sleep tight.