For my sins, this post is an homage to
‘s brilliant Receipts From The Bookshop, where she documents her day running her bookshop, Storytellers Inc., in Lytham St Annes. I wish it was a daily dispatch, because it always makes me laugh — there aren’t enough words to convey just how much I enjoy being subscribed to her Substack, and think you will too. But instead of regaling you with tales of running a bookshop, of which I have none because I don’t run a bookshop, I thought I’d give you some vignettes of a lovely day selling at the Women Will Create market yesterday.For the first time in my Substack life, this post is too long for email - so make sure you click to expand it in web or in the app!
As I set out my stall, I reason with myself that today’s goal is to make enough money to cover all of the things I’ll inevitably buy from the other stallholders, and all the food I will inevitably snack on from the surrounding food stalls. (Markets are their own kind of mini-economy, I swear.)
“THEY HAVE HANDS!” a woman shrieks (delightedly) at my mugs. (She’s not wrong).
A table of parents and children set up shop at a table behind us, and I marvel at the idea that some kids grow up in London, with swanky trendy Mercato Metropolitano as their Saturday hangout. We had the Pizza Hut on Kingswood, until our minds were all blown with the Nando’s in St Stephens.
My stall is next to a ramp, which I keep eying warily because I have new glasses and I’m in the adjustment period for them where my sense of distance and my depth perception is totally off. (So much so that when setting up my pyramid of mugs for sale, my partner asked “Is that wise?” Pleased to say I smashed none!)
“Oh look, enthusiast! That’s you! You’re an enthusiast, aren’t you?” Mum to a ~11 year old boy, who could not have looked more sullen as he walked past and tried to avoid eye contact with me.
My wonderful friend Dani (who I wrote about it in this piece) came to visit me, and she had not been in my eyeline 3 seconds before I blurted out “I love your hair please can you get me a philly cheesesteak sandwich”. She did, because she’s a love (and her hair really did look nice!)
A woman asks if I have an instagram. I forgot to bring business cards, so I spell it out for her, but then follow it up with “but I am closing the shop so there won’t be any more stock coming for the moment”. She looks at me as if to ask why the hell I didn’t lead with that, and it’s a reasonable question. Came for the restock, stayed for the good vibes?
Speaking of instagram, the lovely Niamh bought a mug from me and a card from Neesh as a birthday present for a pal. Small business love 4eva!
I make good on my word and make a purchase from Brûler Candles (in fact, two: not only the tomato vine scent which I’d set out to buy, but the basil and sesame scent too). I then play it totally cool by DMing her from across the room and saying if she ever wants to move into perfume I’d be her guinea pig and liberally douse myself in this scent daily.
“OMG I CRY AT SUNSETS TOO!” My new best friend a kind stranger, grabbing a friend’s arm excitedly.
The toilet inside is closed for maintenance so I brace myself and visit the outdoor toilet. I briefly wonder if I’ll get stuck to the seat like when people get their tongues stuck on ice poles. I take the risk — and I’m not writing this from A&E, so a win as far as I’m concerned.
A lovely lady tells me that she’d like more split sweatshirts but in colour ways that appeal to her goth tendencies, like “black and grey…black and green…black and” and then she pauses. “You were about to say black and black, weren’t you?” I ask. She hangs her head, ashamed (because she owns the all black version of the sweatshirt already.)
The café-stroke-gelataria opposite me have run out of hot chocolate, so I have to nip to the coffee-shop-stroke-deli (nothing’s ever one thing in London, is it?) a bit further away, whilst the lovely Avneesh keeps an eye on my stall. The man serving me hands me my drink and says, slowly and deliberately, “You will love this.” Is he hypnotising me? If he was, it worked: I did love it.
Three men stand so obnoxiously close to my stand that I feel like swiping my stock off the bench and asking them if they’d like to take a seat. The only thing stopping me is that they look the type to probably take me up on the offer, which would only wind me up further. At least grab me a mulled wine and involve me in the conversation, my guys!!!
As I pack up, I think about how I can’t be bothered to cook the pork fillet I’ve defrosted, and debate a takeaway. I then remember that Danielle from Brûler told me she not only had a workshop on after the market today, but a workshop on tomorrow too. I marvel at her energy, and then decide I should be a hero and cook the pork. (To add insult to injury, our neighbour got a Deliveroo as we walked through our flat door. It smelled delicious.)
To shop the last remaining Enthusiast stock before I close the shop at the end of the year to focus on the writing and speaking side of things, you can see it all here!