The market by the wall

Morning drifts into my dream, and like a flower blooming expands my mind into consciousness.

Eyes open and gaze on the clock and ... Oh nooooo!!!!

I've overslept!

Today was market day, it was suppose to my last for a while.

Hastily rushing out of the door, I made my way there (without speeding of course).

There was still time no? Time to catch the magic?

As I pulled into the side lane, I spied the colored signs, yellow and blue announcing the festivities.

A sigh of relief, the sun was shining yet the air was cool, a perfect day for the market.

This is one of the rare gateways where the wall of reality and memories thin for me. And I try not to visit too often lest the magic grow thin.

I trounce through the stalls one by one as a hunter would , unsure what i would find, but yet cautious to hide my delight whenever i spotted something that interest me lest the storekeeper raise the prices.

Crystal glasses to match the set that came from another market? Bartered for a shower of silver.

An ancient hammer revived with a hand polished wooden handle? Bought for a flake of blue.

And as I stooped to investigate a particularly pretty set of salt and pepper shakers, something caught my eye. A medallion of Sir Stamford... here? Amongst these things? How odd indeed! And as I stood to leave the stall, I looked at the lonely metal disc sitting amongst the other shiny items. The first knight errant of my land should not have to endure this, thought I as I picked the weighty disc up. A bargain is stuck for 3 gold nuggets and Sir Stamford makes his way to my pocket.

So the adventure continued,

Hand blown glass decanter for port complete with glasses and a kettle seemingly hawn from a block of ice in exchange for a flash of orange fire from my hands.

A dish rack I was keenly observing was given to me for the price of a smile.

And all around the cheerful throb of the market can beheard, dogs chatting with each other as they walk their owners through the shops. A young boy bartering with an old man for a trinket, Pavarotti and the Beatles float through the air, melding into a strange duet of sorts.

And just round the corner I can still almost see, friends from long ago wave back at me.
And looking on this market ground, amongst the cries of shillings? No, pounds!
Crystalline memories of days gone by, change hands to find surprised,
the smile on the face of owners new, at a treasure now possessed.

Man I love this market