Coloured Dots on Bars — Market Tales

I practiced putting up my new stall in the garden, using coloured dots on bars to remind me how they fit together.

Image by Nikada

For twelve years, I worked as a market trader, selling my wares at towns and shows. These Market Tales are brief snapshots of my experiences with the characters I met, the weather, and the physical and mental endurance it took to trade in the great outdoors.

The neighbours viewed me with fascination. What was the peculiar structure I was hammering together in my garden?

It seemed obvious to me that I should practice putting my stall together before going to my first market. I didn’t want to look like a numpty in front of all of the seasoned traders.

“Are you sure about this?” My mum wanted to know. “Getting up at the crack of dawn, going out in all weathers, having to deal with customers?”

I’d dealt with many customers when I’d worked in a book shop and a garden centre, so that didn’t worry me. I liked being outside, so neither did the weather. My alarm clock would help me wake up at the crack of dawn.

Now was the time to try to operate my own business. I didn’t want to be tied to one place, so taking my wares to various towns seemed like a good plan to me.

The traders on the vegetable stall stared at the newcomer, trying to bang in her bars ineffectively with a small hammer.

“You’ll be wanting one of these.” Another trader handed me a mallet. “You can keep that one; I have another.”

He snapped his braces. “I like the dots, by the way. Good plan.”