AMuesing, a day in Keswick.

IMG_5114The subterfuge to why I went here was helping out with Mues, or rather getting enough pocket money to  afford a holiday in the Lakes hanging out with good people. So in between the vastness of time spent being treated like a princess and a true protector of Narnia, I helped out on a few markets. First out was a standard Keswick Thursday with Tim. Still not trusting the heatwave over northern England I was wearing my woolen top and Mrs Cottinghams survival boots (with double woolen socks to make them fit). About 9.30 am I was both boiling AND selling the Artman classic faster than butter melts in sunlight in spite of my thick scandinavian accent and inability to remember the content of the Tropical medley. Beat that boys.

The charm of a local market for a big city girl was almost overwhelming and when the guy in the stand behind gave us a bacon butties with black pudding I was almost tearing up. This is the life, I thought. All caught up in the emotion I went and bought a sheep skin and a big latte and started to talk to an old man about how I loved his accent and said I was going to practice all week to get a similar one. He smiled and put his massive wrinkly hand on my arm and said (in a LOVELY accent) “no, continue as you are love, that’s just perfect”. Being a Suede in an apron on a northern British market made wonders for your confidence I can tell you that. And I can swear on my great grandmothers grave that if Marcia wouldn’t have bought a lot of muesli for her self when she sold it we would have had the standing sales record this day. Amen and out!

/J

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