Is it just me or are many UK markets a bit depressing?

I’m not talking about large popular, specific or occasional ones like Camden (as was,) Riverside, Portobello, Aberystwyth, Totnes; or Farmers markets, but your local or regular Saturday market with random stalls full of plastic toys, uninspiring pictures, shiny clothes, pet food, plastic handbag racks, sad cheap cards and the odd meat van or product seller shouting ever decreasing prices for their wares.

The best seller is usually the fruit and veg stall, which, if you are lucky has good quality produce and lots of offers as the day wears on.

Families mooch around, many trailing dogs or pushing prams, but nobody seems cheerful or happy even on the sunniest of days.

Visitors to Britain expecting a vibrant, colourful market, full of exciting produce, sounds, smells and stalls with traditional preserves, home made breads, pasties and pies, good quality clothes and household goods, wooden toys, old fashioned sweets and pottery will be grimly dissapointed.

Why do we accept so much less than the best? Are we apathetic? Is it because we happily buy junk at inflated prices? Why are our markets laden with crap, and worse, why do we buy it?

Somebody buying a round for everybody in the bar is a great gesture, but make it champagne all round and it becomes a grand gesture. But if somebody buys a round for a large group of friends, when they have money problems which nobody knows about it is a grander gesture or maybe a foolhardy gesture or both.

Many grand gestures need an element of risk or foolhardiness to raise them from kind or nice to grand. Receiving a box of chocolates is always lovely but receive one from someone who has gone through various trials and tribulations to get them make the gesture a grand one. (old Milk Tray adverts.)

People climb bridges and hang messages displayed on sheets while others pay small aircraft to write smoke messages in the sky, but they are not always grand gestures because grand gestures also involve an element of impulse and large-heartedness!

My brother who lives in America and is far from wealthy decided to send his mother -in the UK, flowers for her birthday. He then thought it would also be nice to send some to me, and to his other sister, and the other one, and also his brother. The flower company were bemused as he kept phoning back with yet another request.

He was quite tipsy but when he had sobered up he laughed his head off at the thought of the bouquets he had sent out and when the company phoned to confirm the order (despite the huge bill) he told them to go ahead and send them.

I popped out to get something for lunch from a local Tesco Express as I had nothing in. Or so I thought.

The reality is that I had vegetables, frozen veg, cheese, pasta, potatoes, various tins, butter, milk, eggs and all the basics such as oil etc. I had plenty, yet wasted petrol and time to get more.

Obviously I had nothing in that I wanted or could be bothered to cook. I wonder how many trips, in households throughout the country/and other wealthy countries where this also applies. How spoilt we’ve all become, so fast.

A typical week’s ration for 1 person for a week in 1942 thus:-

Bacon and ham: 4oz (100g) Around one shilling and sixpence worth of meat:
Cheese: 2oz(50g) sometimes it went up to 4oz (100g.)
Margarine: 4oz (100g)
Butter: 2oz (50g)
Milk: 3 pints(1800ml) occasionally dropping to 2 pints (1200ml). 1 packet of dried ‘household’ milk per four weeks.
Sugar: 8oz (225g).
Jam: 1lb (450g) every two months.
Tea: 2oz (50g). (half a packet or the equivalent of 15 tea bags)
Eggs: 1 fresh egg a week if available but often only one every two weeks. 1 packet of dried eggs every four weeks.
Sweets: 12oz (350g) every four weeks.

No conclusion here, just the hope that I think twice before concluding that I have no food in the house,  and buying more.

Prepare ye for a perilous, wearisome journey with battling drivers, as everyone ‘gets away’ for a break and then ‘goes home’ a couple of days later, exhausted after planning, packing, travelling and cramming in days out - only to find they are mingling with hoards of others who had the same idea.

Prepare ye also for the supermarket store where shelves will be stripped by those preparing for the four day seige, queues will stretch endlessly, and the last of the cheap Easter Eggs will be bought up by the person in front of you, leaving you with a choice of little cream eggs or the most expensive costing quadruple the amount you planned to spend.

Prepare ye also for an Easter meal of happy families, long walks, board games, boring television programmes, squabbles and too much chocolate.

Prepare ye to return to work, shattered.

Households are recycling their socks off while factories, businesses and even some schools and colleges have not even started.

Junk mail has not been banned.

The paperless office is a joke. Everything is printed out and filed and businesses have huge stores of archived twaddle.

Stores are finally being encouraged not to use plastic bags, yet food bags, freezer product packages, bin liners, nappy bags and dog poo bags have not been mentioned.

Most bins are made of plastic.

This train of thought was a result of junk mail from a water filter company which came in a clear plastic bag and contained various  stickers which stated:- ‘I’m an environmentally friendly cartridge‘ ‘recycle now,’ ‘better for you, better for the environment.’ Unfortunately these stickers were plastic. Enyaaaaaaaaaargrrrrraha!

Leap year folk get one birthday every four years, which means that when they reach 100 they will only be 25.

It means that although they celebrate their birthday on 28th February or 1st March for the three years, and whatever  fun and partying takes place, it never feels completely authentic. But when the 29th comes round the celebrations accompany the feeling that the real birthday has arrived at last.

Be a female leap year baby and you have a major celebration and can propose if you feel inclined, although quite why a woman should only feel able to propose once every four years in this age of equality is beyond me.

However because leap year birthdays are rare, those lucky enough to be born on one get an ordinary birthday annually, and a supreme birthday every four years, with double celebrations and presents.

I know because I am one and it’s great!

Part of the joy of pets is the fact that they play. In fact cats and dogs play but I don’t think hamsters do, unless you count their treadmill. I’ve never seen a rabbit do much more than munch or sleep but to be fair I have never kept one. As for fish, maybe they play chase.

I had a friend that kept white rats. Apparently they do play but the thought of being close enough to find out gives me the willies. Ferrets also play apparently as well as running up trouser legs.

There are some free range pigs not far from here and while the adults sleep the piglets roll around and chase each other through the mud as well as fighting over food.

I’m not keen on caged birds but was left two elderly budgies when their owner died. I tried to give them some freedom by letting them out of the cage for a fly around (indoors) but they were agoraphobic. Budgies do play though. They like bells, mirrors, ladders and swings and will wind each other up like children.

Wild animals romp around and play and it’s not just confined to the young. Most adult animals continue to play, but some humans find it harder. I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this but maybe it doesn’t need a resolution anymore than play does.

24 hour drinking and the British booze culture. Alcohol is fattening!

We are becoming more like the USA and using cars for the shortest journey. As roads become more congested, more and more are being built rather than alternatives sought.

Schools have been asked to improve nutrition for children and parents are urged to change their habits but manufacturers are still allowed to churn out high fat, highly processed foods and target their advertising at families and children.

PC’s, TV’s, DVD’s, hand held games and a culture where television is so important that the results of talent or competitive shows are considered important enough to broadcast on the news.

Our long working hours. Everyones to shattered to exercise.

Sunday trading. We have access to shops and food 7 days a week and have forgotten how to do without, eat less and make do with what we have in the store cupboard.

Gyms. Exercise is seen as a task or leisure pursuit in itself rather than a natural part of daily activities…walking to school or work, gardening, a family game of rounders, dance class, a long country walk.

The availability cheap, mass produced food stuffs so that we no longer respect food as something which we should be grateful to have, but as something which is always there in abundance.

The snack culture which means that children are not as hungry as they should be when a meal is served. They can be picky about eating vegetables because they know that they can have a bag of crisps if they get peckish rather than waiting until the next meal.

Our inability to cook. The popularity of the umpteen cookery programmes does not indicate that people cook but rather that they sit and watch celebrity chefs cook.

These are becoming increasingly popular especially in winter when it is dark so early. It is an easy way to cash in on British history and to add atmosphere and intrigue to old buildings. There is nothing like a ghost to draw the crowds.

The walks usually start in the graveyard of an old church or stately home and the guide (speaking in a suitably deep hushed voice) begins the story of the sad old ghost, where they lived and their tragic and untimely death.

As the story unfolds the group follow him as he walks (or glides) along pointing out old and current haunts and where the ghosts is likely to appear. The group stops, waiting and listening in strategic spots as dusk turns to dark and his voice gets deeper and the atmosphere creepier.

By now there is a pleasant frisson of fear amongst the group which becomes more jumpy so that if one accidentally touches another a gasp or even a scream rings out into the night.
He stops talking, but gestures again for them to stop so they huddle in the dark expectantly and wait. Then someone suddenly realises that the guide has faded away.

Every village and town boasts little old teashops with waitresses in black uniforms and white aprons who carry little notepads and pencils and serve the tea from trays. Yet is possible to forget the tradition of afternoon tea for months or years.

However, once in a while, after a walk, or on holiday you can suddenly find yourself sipping hot tea and eating cucumber sandwiches, and while you do so you always vow that it is so nice that you will do it regularly.

A bone china tea service sits on a pure white tablecloth. The tea is piping hot and strong and there are cucumber sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and cream and a selection of cakes and biscuits. The experience is artistic, gentle, relaxing and sociable.

Maybe the answer to our binge drinking culture is to close pubs early and encourage tea shops to stay open 24 hours.