Saturday dawned blustery and wild, clouds scudding across the sky like yachts in a fastnet race. After a spot of breakfast and a mug of tea we headed up the hill to the Great Rock, the wind pummelling the car as we crested the hill by the Golf Course (best view from a course ever?) then pushing us down the road towards Staups Lee. Once parked we scurried into the shop, picking up a bakehouse loaf of better bred brown and a pack of six eggs. Pausing for a look in the freezer but no lovely Burnt Edge sausages were available. Jon picked up a Blackshawhead fete pamphlet (last year I entered and picked up three second prizes for my jam, chutney and apple pie) and was invited to help put the tents up on the show field. Another twinge of longing that we lived up here - part of that little community. From shop to hens we then ambled, to visit the chickens who had laid our eggs, their luxuriant hut and grassy intak testament to the definite free range nature of the product. George called to them cluck cluck cluck and pointed...CHICK CHICK....A HENNNN...then spotted the large trampoline and raced off....I LIKE BOUNCING!
Jon was off on Thursday, well, I say off, he actually spent the entire morning doing work, but I did have him to myself in the afternoon. We got out of the house around 12 and went to the market, thursday is second hand goods and is always busy and full of eccentric characters and lots of tat. We browsed the stalls looking at books, beads, toys and tweed...calling in to the indoor market for restorative drinks - Coffee for Jon and a big mug of builders tea for me. We sat at the corner table, watching people pass and call into the ironmongers. Shaz phoned me for a while and Jon replied to emails. A Grandmother, Mother and Daughter sat next to us and had chip butties with cans of coke, the daughter wore a claddagh and I thought of Graham and wondered if they were Irish. An old lady dropped her stick inside the cafe and the nearest table immediately rose and retrieved it, giving her a lift with her bags. A wife perched her bum on a high stool behind me and kissed her husband, he'd been sat waiting with his coffee and the paper while she shopped. All life is here, at the market, the breadth of ages and classes, sitting elbow to elbow immersed in the companionable buzz of chatter, china and cutlery.
Grew up watching Toys, Hook, Jumanji and Mr Doubtfire...got older and discovered this fantastic film, met Jon and was made to watch Dead Poet's and The Fisher King...together we watched his stand up, I can't believe such a talented, clever, bright man has been taken down by this utter shit of an illness, depression.