At The Market
Jul. 11th, 2009 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
callmemadamIt’s raining steadily today, which means there will be fewer outside sellers and car booters down at the market but I decide to go anyway; I’ve nothing else to do. First off I see some fine plants for sale and snap up this Pelargonium ‘Cornish Flair’ for £3.50.
As I’m first on the scene I pick the best one, with lots of buds. When this variety was introduced, plants cost about £20.00 each, so I’m pleased. New geranium stowed safely in the car, I make my way inside and buy a new-old basket to replace the ancient one which is becoming a barbed menace to fellow shoppers. The seller says gallantly that he will tell his wife the basket has gone to ‘an equally lovely lady’. He reduces the price, too.
The Saturday market has a mixture of regular traders and occasional sellers. There are greetings rituals, very old men hailing each other ‘Hello, young man’; the correct response is to ‘Hello-young-man’ him back. You see groups of men, totally absorbed, around the stall selling old tools, lengths of wire, potentially useful rubbish. Then there are the philatelists, waiting for their man. When he arrives with his little 'ttache case and sets his albums out on the table, they draw up chairs, produce tweezers and magnifying glasses and begin a morning’s study. It reminds me of the pub scene in Billy Liar, from which Billy feels so excluded: ‘Have you got them theer, Charlie?’ – ‘’Aye, they’re up in our garridge.’ – ‘I’ll come down for’ em tomorrow morning.’
I’m soon glad I bought that basket because one of the occasional sellers, a house clearer, is there with his usual chaos of boxes. And he has a lot of books, all unsorted. Patiently, with some other hunters, all men, I sift through and select what might be useful. Then there’s a buying ritual to be got through. ‘Are these books Nick’s?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Where is he then?’ Nick appears, cramming jam tarts into his mouth and chatting to a chap who used to deal in books but has switched to china. ‘How much are your books today?’ ‘They’re cheap, very cheap.’ The onlooker intervenes, taking one side and then the other in the bargain. I’ve picked twenty books, a mixture of children’s paperbacks and some early romance novels with lovely period dustwrappers. Nothing worth much. ‘That’s gotta be a fiver.’ ‘Too cheap’, cries the chorus, ‘Even you (me, that is), can’t get ‘em for that.’ I do, of course, and stagger off. It’s fun.
When I get home it’s still raining, Sounds of the Sixties is still on the radio, it’s just like always except that someone who used to make me a cup of coffee when I returned with my booty is no longer there.
As I’m first on the scene I pick the best one, with lots of buds. When this variety was introduced, plants cost about £20.00 each, so I’m pleased. New geranium stowed safely in the car, I make my way inside and buy a new-old basket to replace the ancient one which is becoming a barbed menace to fellow shoppers. The seller says gallantly that he will tell his wife the basket has gone to ‘an equally lovely lady’. He reduces the price, too.
The Saturday market has a mixture of regular traders and occasional sellers. There are greetings rituals, very old men hailing each other ‘Hello, young man’; the correct response is to ‘Hello-young-man’ him back. You see groups of men, totally absorbed, around the stall selling old tools, lengths of wire, potentially useful rubbish. Then there are the philatelists, waiting for their man. When he arrives with his little 'ttache case and sets his albums out on the table, they draw up chairs, produce tweezers and magnifying glasses and begin a morning’s study. It reminds me of the pub scene in Billy Liar, from which Billy feels so excluded: ‘Have you got them theer, Charlie?’ – ‘’Aye, they’re up in our garridge.’ – ‘I’ll come down for’ em tomorrow morning.’
I’m soon glad I bought that basket because one of the occasional sellers, a house clearer, is there with his usual chaos of boxes. And he has a lot of books, all unsorted. Patiently, with some other hunters, all men, I sift through and select what might be useful. Then there’s a buying ritual to be got through. ‘Are these books Nick’s?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Where is he then?’ Nick appears, cramming jam tarts into his mouth and chatting to a chap who used to deal in books but has switched to china. ‘How much are your books today?’ ‘They’re cheap, very cheap.’ The onlooker intervenes, taking one side and then the other in the bargain. I’ve picked twenty books, a mixture of children’s paperbacks and some early romance novels with lovely period dustwrappers. Nothing worth much. ‘That’s gotta be a fiver.’ ‘Too cheap’, cries the chorus, ‘Even you (me, that is), can’t get ‘em for that.’ I do, of course, and stagger off. It’s fun.
When I get home it’s still raining, Sounds of the Sixties is still on the radio, it’s just like always except that someone who used to make me a cup of coffee when I returned with my booty is no longer there.
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no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 10:37 am (UTC)We are sorting stuff out for a car boot sale tomorrow, here. Andrew is away the weekend but I'm going to go with friends Jo and Vicky, if we can fit all that I want to sell into Jo's minibus (she has a large number of daughters). I'm not feeling at all romantic about buying and selling yet, but your post has helped!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 10:40 am (UTC)Pity I'm not near enough to pop over and help you; I'm a good saleswoman :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 10:53 am (UTC)When I first moved here and the garden was bare, I bought loads of plants from car boot sales over the years. It saved a small fortune I think!
My father is one of those old men :-) he's made friends with all the second hand tool and camera sellers in his area.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 11:02 am (UTC)My garden was mostly stocked from the WI Market, as it was then. I graduated to selling plants there myself.
The old men are lovely so your father is in good company.
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Date: 2009-07-11 11:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 11:14 am (UTC)I should definitely go for the plants; guaranteed to cheer you up.
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Date: 2009-07-11 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 01:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 01:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-11 02:01 pm (UTC)Just read Miranda's account of your Paris adventures. Glad you had such a good time!
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Date: 2009-07-11 04:06 pm (UTC)The basket is longer and shallower than the one I already had: useful for carrying rhubarb about :-) I don't think I've seen the other kind and now I shall be looking for them.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-12 04:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-12 07:21 am (UTC)