Confessions of a Market Trader — Part One

Confessions of a Market Trader. The daily life, struggles and experiences of someone crazy enough to choose a life working outdoors.

Many (many) years ago, I set up as a market trader.

I didn’t have the first clue about being a market trader.

This is what happened.

I bought the frame of a stall, a canopy, and metal clips.

I practiced putting up my stall in my garden. The neighbours were agog. My mum was horrified.

What if a metal bar falls on you?

What if the wind blows you away?

What if you fall off your stool?

I ignored her and the neighbours.

I bought a Volvo estate. I bought £100 worth of stock. I bought display equipment. I booked a stall space on a country town market, and off I went.

It was a Thursday morning in July, a good time to start my new business. It was sunny and warm. I arrived at the market at around 6 a.m. and parked next to my stall space. Then I bounced around, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. I noticed the traders on the vegetable stall staring in wonderment. Wry grins all around.

A small man clutching a mallet approached me as I tried to whack one metal bar…