Thursday. How did it get there so quickly??

By now my friend and I had moved to our second B&B, next door to the first. A most excellent Jane Austen breakfast room with brocade, cut glass and lidded tureens filled with Rice Krispies, it just doesn't get any better. Much gilding and gold and luxury cushions, fabtastic fun - and the funniest, kindest ladnlady who talks more than I do. That's impressive. And an operatic version of Somewhere Over the Raaaaiiiinnnbooooowwwwwwwwwww over brekkie, much to our smothered amusement.

Rightyho, oh loyal band of readers.
Thursday.
Staying at our B&B also were the two ladies selling Fair Trade and Injabulo, Chrissie and Kerry, both absolutely delightful and very funny. So more gossip exchanged (they were there solely for the Market Place). Becca and I went roaming - what the bus driver described as 'it's just a short walk' to Bridge of Allan became an almighty trek for my little dumpy legs, and by the time we got there I had to stagger into a chemist and buy plasters for my poor footsies. If they sold replacement feet I would have bought those too.
We then got the bus to Stirling, and pootled buying bits for my stall that I hadn't been able to fit into my case, Becca was chatted up by a 12 year old working in Primark (that's how damned classy we are) because he wanted her to knit him a jumper, Becca ate cookies, I looked at cookies and wished I could eat them.

Then we tried to find food and ended up at the Very Scary bus station caf. Not good - my food didn't get eaten. Becca's did - how can she eat so much and stay so gorgeous!

We grabbed an hours kip, then our landlady very kindly drove us up to the uni with my case and bags to set up for the stall.

Hmmm. Signposted - sort of. To the building. Once there - nowt.
Apparently it was opk getting to the unloading bit if you were driving,  but for anyone on foot? Not a fekkin chance. Poor Becca ran (literally) right round the building, we went inside, came out, walked roun d - all with a mountain of very heavy bags.

I eventually asked a kind woman who looked equally lost - she turned out to be one of  J&S . Ie the main sponsors.
I would LOVE to know what was going through her mind at this point - minimal signs, nobody to help with directions, nothing except disgruntled folk trying to get in.

Anyway, we finally got inside, Becca was utterly brilliant helping me set up and I sold things before I even got them all out of the cases! This did me the world of good - I know my sewing is good, it's just so nerve wracking wondering if it is good ENOUGH. It was so late when we left, no car, and places seemed to be shut, so we both went to sleep utterly knackered and without tea. Boo hoo!

The market place itself was bizarrely laid out - 2 flights of steps (great fun with huge heavy stuff), no signs of a lift although presumably there was one somewhere, no posters, directions, fek all - the other 2 rooms were upstairs, along corridors, round corners - great planning. Not.

Disorganised.
Yes.
Almost reassuring to know that the themes of the week hadn't vanished ...