We had gales overnight and it is still pretty windy this morning. With heavy rain due for the next couple of days I wanted to make the most of the dry weather and made a break for freedom,heading over the bridge to town
I wandered into the market not so much for anything I needed but just to stroll around and chat to folks,some known to me some not it matters little. I picked up a few bargains best buy was a catering roll of grease proof paper for a couple of quid. I had a coffee at the open plan eatery but resisted the temptation of a bacon butty. Sometimes my will power amazes me. After chatting with a few old mates I headed for the bus stop. For those of you who do not use public transport let me try and explain the Tower of Babel that is the return bus to the island on a market day. The chattering between these 30 or so women is non-stop and loud.These are ladies battle hardened in the ways of market shopping and descend on the poor stall holders like a plague of locusts stripping them of everything bar the clothes they stand up in. Brave is the market stall holder, it takes nerve to face a foe as formidable as these warrior queens.So there was I the only male brave enough to share their battle bus home but I had a plan to quell their murmuring I held the catering pack of greaseproof paper aloft and cried in triumph " Catering quality, 20 metres, only £2 " There were murmers of approval I had won them over.Irish Pat budged up to let me sit down and around us the talk of battles won on the market floor started again.
One by one these weary amazons left the bus carrying more bags than a Christmas tree has baubles and trudged home,tired but triumphant. Back at our stop only 4 of us were left. Me, 2 Pats and one of the Dots, "So whose turn for coffee" said Dot. Irish Pat offered so we decamped there drank triumphal coffee and showed off our trophies( now steady on no hidden meanings please) A good mornings work and no casualties. Pat does a very good jam sponge by the way if you are ever passing.