Crafty

Dear UK
You are really doing your best to pull me back aren't ya?
Dear US
I've chaicked, I cn still maanage a Tennessee accent so arm still oh kay.......

For those of you that have been with me from the beginning you will remember the tales of the Country Market or the Womens Institute as it used to be. (The Holy Grail post, in Agust 06 I think) ((If I was clever I could do a link!)) Since the sudden and sad demise of Mrs Kennedy I became disillusioned with the affairs of country crafts; homemade jams, cakes, homegrown vegetables, flowers and the like. Leatherhead (isn't it a daft name US?!) holds its Country Market on a Friday and trying to avoid any confrontation with the Less-Than-Dear-Old Lady who insists on parking her car at the end of my road blocking any traffic in or out, found myself walking, or rather drifting, past the Church Hall that housed this wonderous event.

More on Less-Than-Dear-Old-Lady later........
Being a little early meant a queue inside the ante chamber (well really a drafty corridor) before an 'open sesame' at 10.30am for the wonders inside. 12 school like chairs were pushed up against the walls. An array of jolly, elderly ladies with woven shopping baskets perched their plump forms onto the faded and scratched plastic seats. With the exception of an extremely large younger lady (ELYL), with greasy long grey hair hanging over her face, she unfortunately couldn't get her plump form on the seat and had to balance what must have been one buttock on it and propped herself up with a leg, acting rather like a tent peg.

I sat down and kept my MP3 player (pink naturally) on. Kings of Leon seemed the right thing to listen to at that moment........

I felt the need to break the silence. Off came the music. Enter another jolly elderly lady.

'Please have my seat'
'Oh no dear, you keep it'
'No, please, really I've been sitting all morning.'

I get up and single jolly young lady won't take my seat.

'I should be standing anyway, probably better for me. '
Why did I say that? What on earth did I mean!!
Room is silent. 24 eyes blankly stare at me.
Say something, anything, just SPEAK
'I'm looking forward to this, must be the first one of the New Year'
Good grief you imbicile.......

They all look away

'Oh I think Doreen is first in'
Yes, well I know I'm third'
Oh here we go
'Are you 4th Sylvia?'
'Yes and Mary is after me'
'What 5th? '
I remember this now
'Well who's 6th?'
'I think she is, at the end'
'Oh she's got a stick hasn't she'
What? She can hear you you know, she is only 4 seats away!
'She's not so good at the moment'
'Shame'
For goodness sake...
'What's the matter with her now?'
'Don't know, think it's her hip'
You could always speak to her and find out....
'Oh'
'Or maybe she's had a fall'
Oh for goodness sake!
'What number am I again?'
'Well I'm last ladies...'
Have I got my invisible trousers and top on today??

But hurrah, I have my trusty Merrells on and when the white coated WI lady opens the door to shout 'Open Sesame' (figure of speech, remember!), even though I let all the old biddies in before me, I whizz past them and get to the vegetable stand before them. Shame on me....
Well there was only one bag of spinach and I got it. Hooray for me....

I look at the cake stand. I can tell at a long distance glance that Mrs Kennedy is gone. But not forgotton as far as I'm concerned.

I buy a cup of tea for 50p (26cents), delighted to discover it comes with a biscuit. I have a choice; custard cream, hob nob, garibaldi or bourbon cream. Mmmm, so much choice......... I elect to try a custard cream and pop in onto the saucer as I take it over to the table I've chosen to sit at. Well I say 'chosen'. It's the only one that hasn't got a bag displaying some sort of temporary ownership. It's the table right at the end of the hall, out of the way of people and stands of homemade wears. It has got a colourful strippy seersucker cotton tablecloth.

I place my shopping, a chicken from a local farm, the spinach and a pot of jam that will be relgated to the back of the cupboard as soon as I get home, on the seat next to me. I then put the cup of carefully balanced tea on the table. Wooosh. The teacup tips slighty, sending most of hot liquid into the saucer and instantly dissolving the custard cream. Blast! I look up. Yep, the entire hall is fixated on me. I smile. They do not.

I realise that is is clearly the wobbly table and at the end of the room for that reason.

I take out a magazine from my rucksack. (Yes I'm still using it!) I fold up a thick piece of paper and wedge it under a leg and smile again at all the very helpful people still staring blankly at me as I sip the last few dribbles of tea in the bottom of my cup.

Oh drat, I just remembered, I don't really like spinach...............