I was packing up Finchley this week, putting the last section of the trays into the van when at about four o’clock lady punter wandered on the stall.
“Are you packing up?” she asked whilst watching me put the last of my gear in the van.
“No love” I replied, “I’m just practising”.
Ignoring my sarcasm, she went on.
“But it’s still early,” she said.
“I’ve been here since seven o’clock this morning” I informed her.
“You’d take more money if you stayed open later,” she told me.
Now bearing in mind that I get up at five and I don’t get home until seven I am in no hurry to extend my working day and so it was at this point that I did what I do in situations like these and went into my best Basil Fawlty impersonation:
“Oh, you know all about it now do you? Oh, you’re a market trader now are you? Anything else I’m doing wrong? The way I set my stall up perhaps? The way I write my signs? Oh please do enlighten me with your wisdom and experience”.
She gave me a vacant stare and then walked away. I probably lost a potential punter but it made me feel better.
That’s this week’s report from Pete the Market Trader, the man on the street, literally.
