The Market

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.