Take your time

We've lived in Tonbridge for just over 7 years and in all that time I've never been to the weekly flea-market and never been to the weekly WI farmers market. With the first one, I've always been put off by the word 'flea'. Are my purchases going to be infested with small bitey things? Why 'flea'? Are the blood-sucking insects known for their thriftiness? Was it started in California by scary sock-on-cock Chili Pepper bassist and Back to the Future 2 bad boy Flea?
And as for the WI: its only on for a couple of hours in the morning, so that by the time I remember, its already stopped. Crap excuse, but honest.
Any hoo, I stopped into a charity shop whilst ploughing through a typical 'mum' shopping list (you know: swimming trunks, coffee, phone top up, deodorant, life etc oh, and my favourite magazine...

check out the cover of the cd: she R.O.C.K.S.

and there, shining with the after glow of what must have been a bargain tractor (tracter?) beam were these Whittard beauties, brand new and wanting me bad.

Suffice to say, you are now welcome to take tea in the house of yumptatious.

Full of joy and clattering mugs, I finally took in the 2ftx12ft sign, proclaiming the presence of a flea market and, insect repellent at hand, went in.
One stall looked like the contents of a wardrobe had been hormonally removed by a PMT-laden woman, intent on finding an item she is convinced is in their somewhere: this would have been the table behind, catching the flying items. Fearing that I may fall in, I moved along.
Eventually, after wading through military brass, old cameras, a plethora of out of date cosmetics, glass figurines and the like, I found a small piece of heaven. Boxes of buttons, some ordered, some dumped into cardboard boxes, some sewn onto strips of card, an old wooden box full of wooden spools of aged cotton, still true of hue, trimmings and ribbon offcuts, memories of projects past. Trying not to drip saliva, I bought a few items to keep me going...

these buttons are actual size (the other ones are this big too)

I literally squealed 'Are you here every week?!' in a boy-hits-puberty stylee and somehow resisted the urge to leap over the table and hold her in a warm platonic embrace.
Well how good was my morning going?! I left the flea market skipping then resumed my normal gait as the clatter of cups in my bag suggested potential breakage. All ready to go home, I passed the sign for the WI market, today celebrating its 5oth year and finally went in. It's in a tiny little old Scout hut, containing a tea stall and chairs and a few trestle tables carrying plants, fabric peg bags, organic pressed apple juice, home-made pies, jams, chutneys, and marmalade:

this is absolutely delicious.

As I started for the exit, a lady carrying a tray of small plastic cups containing what I assumed to be samples of the apple juice, gave me a cup and asked if I would like to celebrate their 50th anniversary with them. Thanking her, I took a full, thirsty swig and a) realised I hadn't had my breakfast yet and b) this wasn't apple juice. Friends: this is the way to start the day. Champagne on an empty stomach. Classy! Suffice to say I giggled, for many reasons, all the way home.

Did my good fortune stop then! No! My Moo cards had arrived!

Some are a bit dark but are fine for what I want: they're going to be my price tags. Better get busy with the whole punch.

After strong coffee from a new mug and toast with new marmalade, I set about getting this chap ready ...

monkey, you may want to move once I finish him: he won't be so harmless then...

I think putting the controls on him activated the Force. Nothing to do with laughing at ones own jokes whilst taking photos...

A bit of evil, pocket sized. Treat your socks with love and respect, kids, or they will, like this pair, turn to the Darkside and blow up your home planet just for kicks (I don't think that champers has worn off...)