Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig

Despite my late hour last night, and my overindulgence of all things begining with Jack, and ending in Daniels, I rose this morning at 8, fed No 1 child, and dropped him at the beach. Came home, fed No 2 child, and sent her on her way.

Time for myself.

I could have gone home and went to bed, but no, I travelled inland for 8 miles. Away from the bustling metropolis that is home, and headed for the country town of Killie, greater burgh of that place called Onthank.

My reason for my intrepid journey was the International Market which was taking place. I can't resist a market.

I think I should have been born in France, in a little town close by the sea in Brittany; I could have worn big black dresses and headscarfs all the time, all the better to hide messy hair and big arse.

And I would have had a market stall.

I would have sat at my market stall, selling table cloths made of lace, and the odd plastic one, because although lace is pretty, it isn't really isn't durable for a family table.

I would have pretended not to understand what the foreigners were saying and grumbled in French to them. "Comme Ce, Comme Ca" like that. I would have ate french sticks with an inch of pate and drunk bordeaux wine by the gallon.

I would let a room out in our house for the "authentic" french experience, and fed them food without telling them what it was, and made them drink my cheap red wine; they wouldn't be getting my bordeaux. And they would love me for it.

Any hoo, I digress. I made it to the market, and found a suitable parking space. And I'm sorry Mr Traffic Warden, it wasn't until I returned I realised I was supposed to pay. Thank you for two hours free parking :-)

The market was lovely (apart from location -I'm not overly fond of the town) - The French bread makers were heavenly and cheeky boys. I would have taken them home, had I not known that my daughter would have been after them too.

I spoke to a Native American, who gave me a little blue stone for luck. I think he thought that if he gave me something for nothing, I would buy from him. Ha! Think Again You Injun You!

There were Olives gallore, and I bought a Tub for my beloved, cause he loves Olives, but I don't because they have seeds! Big Seeds. It matters not a jot that these were de-seeded. They existed. Bleurgh.

What did I buy? I bought Macaroons, which were being baked on site, the smell was too heavenly to resist. I bought Meringues - the size of my hand and flavoured with caramel and coffee. I bought Turkish Delight, Rose Flavour, Lemon Flavor, Pistachio Flavour, mmmm. And I bought Chilli Cashews.

My excursion to the far reaches of East Ayrshire only spoilt by several shouts of "Oh My God, There's Marvin"; at which point I held tightly on to my bag, put my head down and moved in the opposite direction. I don't want to be confronted by a known criminal drug dealing addict!

Is it not wrong, that the side re-offender, is made a local hero by a television programme that was supposed to be showing the tale of "true life on a Scheme"!?