Pay me in Hagstones and call me a Gothic!

So, finally I get around to this ere blog.

Last weekend saw us take the Vagabonds stall up to Whitby, North Yorkshire for the spring Whitby Gothic Weekend, and, oh my, did we have some weather!

We hit the stupidly big diversion just past the M56, which lost us a magical mystery tour of an hour, following rediculous yellow signs every which way while the rain lashed down. Rain kept a coming, and we plodded along, finally arriving at mums cottage at about 4.30am!

Finally got to bed, then was up again at 7.30am to get down to the Spa for 10am, in order to secure a parking space to unload. Sat in the van until 12ish, then the `Where`s Wally’ manager relented and let us in- before the heavens opened yet again! I was kicking boxes around trying to lose them by 6pm, so we sheeted up and went back for food. Bath and an early night. Rock and Roll!

Friday- back down the Spa for 9am to sort out the mess I left the previous night. Fairly straight by 10, and the punters started rolling in. Steady trade all day- sold some of everything I have made in the last few weeks, which reinforced my faith in myself no end! Lots of interest in my custom Jackets- so I will be definately making more of those! Packed up at 5.30, and went to Mister Chips for tea. Chased back home, quick change and back out for a night down at the Spa. Attendance was a bit thin on the ground, but Jessie took advantage of the floorspace to have a good spin about, and caught up with a few pals before we flagged and turned in for the night.

Saturday- second verse, same as the first. Replenished the rails with more bargainous bits and bobs. Customers a- plenty, taking full advantage of my markdowns and one off items. I did a lot of stuff for fivers and tenners, which seemed to make all the difference to the goth pocket! Fortified with coffee and Haribo, I got through trading day 2, but I was glad to get back to the cottage! Tarah ordered pizza, which we quickly devoured , then slung on our glad rags for another night down the Spa. Horrendously cold and windy out, and there seemed to be a lot more in attendance.

Die Laughing with Mike Manuskript and lovely Bob on guitar got the crowd warmed up nicely- but by the time Gene loves Jezebel hit th stage, the littlest Hammo was getting narky and wanting to go to sleep- so we bid everyone a hurried goodbye and got blown home in the gales!

Back up on Sunday for the last day of trading. Packing up day.Erghh. The bit where everyone fights for the lifts and stairs, and tries to get as close to the doors as possible to load out. Anyway, another good steady day of trade despite the Biblical weather, then it was THAT time and we all ran around like headless chickens, throwing stuff back in our vans in the rain and sleet, while second Spa manager busied himself ripping down goth posters and stuffing them in the bin with great relish.

So glad to get back to the cottage that night- had celebratory chinese takeaway delivered, then the others got ready for a night at Raw, and we settled down for the evening, myself fighting the carb crash of a massive plateful of food and a knackering couple of days. Hot midnight bath and bed.

Monday – going home day.  Jessies school are none too keen with the kids having too much time off, so we had to get back. Spent the day tootling around a few shops- bought the obligatory 30 sticks of rock for Jessies classmates, and a pot of prawns each- then I promptly got mugged for mine by a couple of lovely cats hanging around outside the Shambles!

Spent a few hours on the beach, soaking up the sun that finally showed its face, and hunting for fossils in the debris that the sea had churned up the day before. Found some cracking hagstones too- which were better to me than any expensive jet jewellery!

who says romance is dead!?

Called time at 4.30, and went for another chippy tea, then all too soon it was time to pack our bags and wend our weary way back home to wales. Stopped at Heartshead services for a brew, then on setting off again, it became apparent that either my stereo had suddenly got quiet, or my van had morphed into a growling beast!

Nearly home, and I could tell from the echo richocheting from the buildings around me that my exhaust was blowing like a good un, but lovely van pulled through and got me home once again. Dragged in the luggage and flumped out.

Last couple of days have been sorting bills and laundry out, and no doubt I shall be sorting stock, ready for our next outing, which will be Wychwood Festival in Cheltenham, at the begining of June.

Right now though, its time for tea, so i`m off to concot some sort of pasta based fodder then do more laundry and tidy up the front room. Cup final day tomorrow, so Paul has a Dad and Son afternoon in store.

Sorry if this was long winded. I tried to keep it short.

Until next time,

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~ by Zoe on May 4, 2012.

One Response to “Pay me in Hagstones and call me a Gothic!”

  1. Always a smashing read and good times 🙂

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