Day 8: Market Trader

A violent start to the day, as I am rudely jerked awake by the Parcelforce man knocking on the door with the force of Vulcan (or someone resenting the lie-in of others..).  This seems to happen every Saturday.   I think he stockpiles items for weekend delivery, just to wield his disruptive power.    It's partially my own fault.  Not quite sure why a tiny rabbit hutch of a house needs a cast-iron knocker suitable for an rambling farmhouse.  But I like it, and I will not tolerate a ding-dong-Avon-calling bell, so the price I must pay is a nought to sixty wake-up.  Sometimes you've got to stand by your principles, whatever the cost.

A mild morning.  I don't need a coat for the walk to buy a paper.  Then up to the market to meander round the stalls.  Fruit, veg, cloth, plants, herbs, bags, pants, rugs, toys, jewellery, books, fish, cheese, china, bread, golf clubs, olives, shoes.  I idly pick up a polished fossil, and am told by the very excited stall holder that this is 'EXACTLY the same species as THE KRAKEN, which DID exist, and would have been about THIRTY feet long (that's the length of a BUS) and with TENTACLES another THIRTY feet long, which would make it SIXTY feet long, and if it GOT you, it would have SUCKED you up and then MUNCHED you ALL AROUND with its BEAK'.  One sentence.  No pausing, no breathing.  The man on the crystal stall has excellent hair - silvery, thick, patrician - but he talks like an over-stimulated ten-year old.  He cares a GREAT DEAL about THE KRAKEN.  Good. 

The fish stall is particularly exciting today.  There's a whole blue shark - looking baleful, as well it might.  It's pretty big, and I can't imagine how anyone would go about preparing or cooking it.  But it is a great crowd-puller.  Perhaps it's just a fish stall garnish?  Like parsley with teeth.

There's been a market here since the ninth century.  Over a thousand years of buying and selling.  And on a good day, like today, there's a real buzz.  When it's pissing down, and the awnings are bulging with trapped rainwater, the stallholders are grumpy and beaten, but today they're all over it.  My favourite fruit and veg stall holder always has a new spin.  'Remembrance Day Caulis!'  Previous angles include 'Coalition Plums!' and 'Bank Holiday Rhubarb!'  Thus proving that anything can be made relevant if you say it is...

It's been a week since I started this blog.  A good week.  Ups and downs, but today I suddenly feel like I'm back in the game.  I have a stall and I'm out there, trading.  Exchanges, returns and special offers.  Doesn't mean there won't be rainy Saturdays, but you can't run a stall without them.  Optimism Celery anyone?