Market day is Wednesdays. Today I was rather late going into town as I had to wait in for a delivery that never arrived. Nevertheless, waiting had its advantages, the morning was full of foreboding clouds and a heavy shower I was glad to miss. Just before the market closed up, the sun came out and so did that feeling of Spring. The sun felt warm and the man at the veggie stall was chatty.
On my way home I popped into the charity shop, as you do, to have a quick nose about, enjoying the freedom from my desk. As luck would have it, I found the perfect thing to fit the day, a silk scarf, all for the bargain price of £1. The brightly coloured flowered print was astonishingly cool for my local charity shop, which never usually has anything other than grey misshapen cardies.
I walked home, waved to my 90 year old neighbour sitting in her sunny window and unpacked my purchases in the kitchen. I got out my new scarf to admire it and got a faint whiff of hairspray, which always reminds me of my Nan. That's the only part I don't like about charity shops, they are tinged with loss.
