In which we praise the optimist, denounce the pessimist and wonder just who is Maureen?

And so after weeks of planning and a good deal of hard work, our first independant arts and crafts fair is finally over.  The gazebos and backdrops have been taken down, the debris tidied away and the hillside is back to its’ normal quiet and tranquil self.  Now comes the post mortem phase of the event; was it good , was it bad and most importantly, was it worth it?

For myself, I believe that it was a success and something well worth building upon and so,  when we have our ‘debriefing’ lunch in a few days’ time over the leftover foie gras and smoked salmon, I shall be encouraging my two splendid partners in crime to give up hours of their valuable time next year and do it all over again.

We may not have had hundreds of visitors, we may not have earned fortunes and the sun may not have shone constantly during the whole two days but I’m certain that for those positive thinkers amongst us the 300 or so visitors who did come through the gates, represented a respectable turn-out for a small and fledgling arts fair in the middle of the countryside, the money we did manage to earn was a bonus in the current economic crisis and the few hours of lovely sunshine we were treated to, were both perfect and extremely welcome.   Alas, of course not everyone falls into the positive thinking camp and for those notable few for whom every silver lining has a cloud, the whole weekend was undoubtedly a failure and a waste of time. I will at this point be very naughty and suggest that if you approach the job of selling and dealing with the public, wearing a face so sour it could curdle milk, you may not get quite the results you were hoping for.

But enough of that, the rest of us had a jolly time and a fair few laughs.   New friendships were forged, contacts were made and my two fellow organisers and I have begun to form quite a formidable team.

A few things however, will definitely have to change for our next edition.   What to do about the animals for one.  The two cats did not appreciate their enforced confinement to the house.  Miyou, our very nervous female cat, spent the whole weekend traumatised, hiding under the bedspread in the  guest room, in sharp contrast to Artois the male cat, who was also confined to barracks given his propensity for joyriding  in other peoples’ cars,  who spent his entire time devising ingenious but unsuccessful ways to execute his escape.  The dogs were seriously frustrated that they were not allowed into the tearoom to help themselves to the stack of cupcakes and ginger biscuits a young friend had provided for the event and in the noise and chaos of the comings and goings,  Mrs Green, the senior frog in the pond, apparently decided to decamp to the pond down the hill in search of her habitual peace and quiet and, more than likely, a few extra sporting males .

Our little triumvirate of organisers  will also be in search of new names or aliases for future events, our own names and identities having been confused to bewildering degrees by both the public and more worryingly by my mother,  with some  amusing results.  We still have yet to work out why  my mother, who has never known anyone in her life by that name , insisted on rechristening one of our number Maureen….???

ALL PHOTOS © JANE MORLEY