So, I went to Knysna with the Captain for a lovely week of foresty nothingness last week. With all the good intentions to blog like a madwomen when I returned, only to be hit by a wave of mental-patient-inducing work load. All good. Deep breathes. Think Forest creatures, etc.
Whilst I was on this blissful foresty retreat, the Captain and I attended the Sedgefield Crafty market - called Wild Oats. Traditionally we go every Saturday for the breakfast. Picture this : Soft, soft, soft breadroll. (Read A Million Little pieces while I was there, thats what what what the the the soft soft soft is about. Think that guy was just trying to get his total page count up with all that repetition. Plus he thinks he is some kind of anti-hero because he started doing crack then stopped doing crack, maybe don't do crack to begin with and be a real hero next time. Oprah was right to make him apologize. ) Back to breakfast : Perfect scrambled eggs, tomato relish from heaven and a boerie that will rock your world - all on one roll of lovelyness. Served to you by an aging hippie, who has rolled down the mountain to prepare this piece of magic for you. Rad.
Anywho, the other section of the market is filled with crafty things you would expect to find in Knysna. The tie-who-the-hell-actually-wears-that-shit-died dresses and T's. Material hearts embroidered with random Afrikaans Psalms, etc. One stroll around this crafty place, you'd have no idea there as a global recession taking place. People chilling out, really not concerned if you buy their painting of a butternut (Honestly, why paint a butternut?). Are these people so stoned they have don't have a clue? Or maybe it's us, the 80's WORD ALERT: The Rat Race People (T.R.R.P) who don't have a clue? *really close up shot of beady eyes*
So, as we strolled, I spotted this stall. Filled with leather purses, belts, bags and wooden hearts. The wooden hearts. where. awesome. Took me about an hour to choose one - couldn't decide between a picture of a happy smiling cat, smirking in dandelions and gypsies caravan with a washing line of gypsies undies (didn't know they wore bra's but didn't want to over think it). The 70% hippie 30% small business chick who made them was giving me the evil eye and getting really irritated with my indecisiveness, not that she could have been in a rush or anything? What was I keeping her from? Hadn't she rinsed her sprouts that morning? (Note: actually I'm making own sprouts now, organic and recession conscious = 10points) Eventually decided upon turquoise heart with gypsie washing.
Ands thats about as eventful as it got.
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