It all happens tomorrow, my local SNB is having a stall at a new market opening up in home town.
I'm on first thing in the morning as part of the set-up crew. I'm not sure how well this will go as usually I am a bit of a cavewoman first thing in the morning. I have hair that looks like it was last modeled on the Wildman of Borneo and mostly I grunt and growl. The daft white car looks on, thinking ??????? Who knows what. I'm not even certain what goes in that mad catty brain, if anything.
Then I get out of bed.
Usually taming the savage beast first off involves caffeine, sugar or a combination of both. The DWC is content to cavort through the house while trying to trip me up, I swear he's in the coffee before I even get up or he's a morning person rein-CAT-nated. My only gripe here is, if he is indeed in the coffee, why can't he make me one?
However the ever competent Sharon will be there first up to marshall my fellow SNB'er Sandra and myself into line at the market. Later in the morning my fellow cavewoman and SNB'er Katt will arrive after her husband has got her out of her cave and into the car. Usually assisted by a cattle prod and long pole (to push the coffee close without getting too close).
I'm looking forward to Katt's arrival because I am sure we will see much cavewoman hijinks ensue. Wearing of tea cosies upon the head, chasing people with sharp pointy sticks, ensnaring possible husbands with scarves and of course the compulsory celebratory hooting upon finding a caffeine source.
Ahhh, I can see it now. David Attenbourgh presents a documentary on Cavewomen in their chosen habitat.
"Fear not market goers! At the prospect of a sale these Cavewomen can not only be civilised but polite. We will approach now carefully so as not to startle them.....Hello! I am after a knit beanie for my next documentry to filmed somewhere cold."
Until next time,
A bona fide red headed cavewoman and damn mad about it!