Markets

We are blessed to be living in a village with a long history - the clock tower dating from Victoria's Jubilee - and yet which still has an excellent butcher, a Spar and a Co-op which are open until late, and at least five functioning hostelries within walking distance.

But it's only now, when one of my free days coincides with market day, that we can really take advantage of the goodies on offer.  A well-stocked fruit and veg stall....

a huge array of artisan loaves and cakes...

and, best of all, fresh fish and a cheese stall offering about fifty different cheeses.  One could spend a fortune, and some do.

This week's tweed, now a skirt.  Some many years ago, my mother's eldest sister died and, in the clearing of her house, a box of textile items was set aside for me.  Last week, rummaging through our loft for a quite different piece of fabric, I lit upon this.  A quick soak in Wool Wash and an hour or two on the line and there was a yard of tweed in colours which were doubtless biding their time for this season.  The zip, lining and petersham together came to about four pounds, so I am well-pleased with this.

Today, to Ally Pally, to a market of a quite different nature.  The heat, the crowds, the over-whelming range of choices on offer - each year I vow "Never again" and each year I forget the discomfort enough to venture forth again.