Consider the sheep of the field

...they do not toil, they do not spin.
Sometimes I'd like to be a sheep.

Today's Christmas fair was at Oakridge Village Hall. Oakridge is pretty rural. More remote than some of the other villages. Because of the rain at the start of the day, I think some of the older folk stayed away. Those that came enjoyed tea and cakes, or soup and ploughman's lunch, but were reluctant to spend money on other things.

In the end, my takings were ok, but I'd had to really work for my money. I was disappointed to find that some people were selling cards for Cancer Research at rock bottom prices. A lady told me she'd come and buy cards from me, as the Phoenix/Flamingo cards also support Cancer Research UK and MacMillans, and as she said, 'I've just had a boob off'.
'Oh, I didn't notice', said I. 'Are you going to get a new one?'
'Yes, on Monday' she replied. We might as well have been discussing car parts. The stigma is gone. Thank goodness!

She did the rounds of the stalls, including the cheap ones, and came back to me.
('My dear, the difference in the quality!')

We'd been up all hours last night, getting Steve's A4 photographic prints mounted and market-ready. They looked great ! Unfortunately, despite being much-handled and commented on, none sold. His cards did, though. I never want to have another conversation about a steam engine again! I know so little, but the train-people who attend Christmas fairs assume I know so much. Give me a cat or dog any day!

We came home, via the Toadsmoor valley, where I snapped this shot. Steve blipped the autumn colours before I could get there!

Fabulous indoor/outdoor party this evening, a do for Steve's friend who is 70. I seemed to know so many people there: it was heartening. Came home and collapsed on to the sofa, and turned on the True Christmas channel, which is True Schmaltz. But right now it's better than doing stocktaking or accounts.