As most of know, yours truly earns a modest crust as a market trader. Lately I have been faced with the presence of johnny foreigner on my patch. These days, cheese, olives and fatty sausages are more prevalent on market stalls than the usual stalwarts of books with pages missing and second hand shoes (left only).
Exhibiting the Spirit of Dunkirk, I have decided to become a “foreign market trader”. I am taking my stock abroad and embarking for the continent. If things go well and I survive the food and the swamp water which oozes out of their taps, the Hun will have abandoned its obsession with bratwurst and instead be turning their TV’s over with English second hand Sky remotes (batteries not included).
I shall return to this little online diary on Wednesday.
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