Last night I had a stall at the Racecourse Road BrisStyle market. It was a good little market, lots of people turned up for a sausage and some carols by battery-operated candlelight. I heard them retelling the story of the baby cheeses "Mary and Joseph arrived and there was no room at the hotel" - Hotel? Was this the modern version? I heard the mini bar had no crisps either.
With carols comes kids and there were some mega, uber brats on hand. Toward the end of the night I had one child come up to my table, fumble though all my brooches, sneeze all over his hands and then resume fumbling. Seriously? The Ascott mother said nothing except 'come on Niko' win she realised the Audi she'd parked badly was in a bus zone.
Just because my stuff is out and on display does not mean your sticky-fingered children are allowed to touch each and every one of my things. No touching kids. There are some good kids, the ones that are advised by parents to 'look with your eyes' - I like those kids.
I want it now!
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