I concluded yesterday's
blog entry with the observation that I had guts ache. The guts ache
continued on through the night. One of my many problems is that I
don't realise I've eaten enough until half an hour after I've eaten
enough. By which time I've already gone on to shovel far too much
food down my gullet. I spent the night and much of the morning with a
rumbling tum.
Up far earlier than would
be usual for a Sunday. Today was one of those days for which we had
multiple offers; but couldn't do them all. We turned down the kite
flying at Leeds Castle. Reluctantly; because last year's kite flying
at Leeds Castle was really good. But we woke to a grey, damp morning.
A wet field might not have been the best option today.
Instead we went to the
craft fair at Furley Park school to raise money for the Park Farm
scouts. I say " to raise money for the Park Farm scouts";
we handed over our table fee, and anything we made we then pocketed.
"Badger-Original-Landscapes
(bespoke-artwork)" staged it's first stall, alongside
Lisa's
engraved glasses and some frankly
amazing candles. There was also a stall selling hand and body
lotions, three other stalls all selling incredibly cheap jewellery,
tea, coffee, raffle, and a small boot fair outside. I must admit that
I had a little giggle when a family were perusing my paintings, and
on seeing the purple circular night scene (with pine tree in
snow), they all commented that this was the painting that Grandma
had. I didn't have the heart to tell them that it wasn't. But I did
wonder what it was that Grandma did have.
There's no denying that I
didn't get rich today. But I did sell some paintings; and more than
covered my expenses for the day.
From a purely mercenary
point of view the fête had the same problem that all scouting
fund-raising events have: no passing trade. The only people there
were people who had been specifically invited. And so (again from
a purely mercenary point of view) it would have been the same old
people putting their hands in their pockets.
I'd certainly go and run
a stall there again. But (having got the taste for running a
stall) I wonder if I might find a summer fayre over the next few
months. Maybe one of the outlying villages, or Challock Goose Fayre.
They would have a much higher turn-out of punters onto whom I could
unload more paintings.
And so home where we
wasted the rest of the afternoon. Firstly by falling asleep for an
hour, and then in having a minor tidy-up. Dull, so dull.
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