“Black holdall or suitcase?” the others were asking, nervously, as Mrs S prepared us for our journey to the craft and vintage fair. They breathed a sigh of relief as she assured them we would all be in the holdall.
“Suitcase is ghastly,” Holly explained to me. It’s on wheels – no suspension – and the pavements of Glastonbury are far from even. The holdall swings a bit, but she puts all the really delicate items in there, so we get a smoother journey.”
I nodded. Hardly the way I’m accustomed to travel, but it could have been worse.
I opted to stand on the highest point, beside my wonderful astrologium, and we received many admiring glances. One lady almost paid to take me home, but finally decided her funds were not sufficient.
Jewellery, I noticed, sells very well. So many people bought those little steampunk pendants made from vintage watch parts set in resin. The knitted nightingales, sold in aid of Ukraine, were popular, too. I was delighted to meet a customer carrying a staff who seemed fascinated by my device, but ended up purchasing the last of the time dragons.
I was hoping to offer astrological readings, but the lady on the next stall to ours seemed to have cornered the market and had a constant queue of people wanting to be told their fortune with tarot, angel cards and other such wisdom.
Finally, though, a customer began browsing the books. There were many titles to select from, but on seeing mine, she exclaimed, “Oh – astrology!”
Wizard Widdershins turned to wink at me. I think he meant it as an encouraging gesture, but I found it somewhat inappropriate. Sure enough, though, I sold my first copy and was highly delighted. I’m really rather looking forward to our next fair, in the Town Hall on July 9th. Perhaps I’ll see you there.
Oh, and if you’d like to download a copy for yourself, along with instructions on how to turn it into your own miniature book, for a very modest price, click this link.
That was a close shave! Just as daylight was fading on Friday night, Mrs S pronounced Ginger Jenkins, our latest arrival, fit to travel with us on the Saturday morning, to the Craft & Vintage Market in Glastonbury Town Hall.
“Just a nip, my dear, to keep me alert,” she insists, but she slid from her chair on numerous occasions. Rather unseemly.
Obviously Valentine goodies will be featured – from steampunky stuffed velvet and leather hearts with keys, clocks, chains and more or less anything else that came to hand, to heart-shaped pendants decorated with cogs or crystals.
Perhaps under the cover of those mists we mentioned last time, a selection of tiny bottles has washed up on our banks. (Avalon is, after all, an Isle, if only in name at present.) Each contains a couple of sparkles or tiny gems and a mysterious message, intended only for the eyes of its new recipient. That’s if they can manage to get it out of the bottle… not easy but possible. We’ve tested them.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Arborius Widdershins – alchemist, magician, man of letters and all-round white wizard.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 