Warning: This post contains some ranting.
Last night I sat down to watch Mary, Queen of Shops on the old goggle box. I've seen the show before, but never as a small business owner, so I was interested to see what words of wisdom could be gleaned from it.
I was almost drawn in by terms such as 'anchor' when referring to the re-branding of the Eastend's Roman Road, finding myself nodding emphatically,agreeing that the issues could be rectified. However, it soon became apparent that in order to create this 'new' experience some traders would loose their livelihoods. I'm not naïve, I do realise that many of the stallholders needed to move with the times in order to survive, but that's not the same as actually moving. On top of that, the system of joining a waiting list to secure a plot on the market was whipped away.
The reality, carefully hidden underneath a retro shabby-chic carpet, is that the picture is skewed. New businesses do not simply spring up over night. They take years of planning and, if you're sensible, saving, redrafting and then a little bit more planning. Shops were given a face lift for the t.v. Lovely, but how much would that cost in real life?
Here's an example for you. Now that the sun has finally arrived, we need an awning to shade our window. Our poor books are getting changed on an hourly basis to stop them curling up like old sandwiches! No problem we thought, there was an awning there before, so we'll just get a new one. Ideally we would like to restore the original, but it looks like the fixings have been painted over a few too many times.
The Highways Agency want a fee of £795, because and I quote 'it will overhang the pavement, so you will need their permission'. Really? Of course it will overhang the pavement, otherwise it would be a curtain! Plus an additional 'planning permission' fee to the Council, which makes the seemingly straightforward solution an impossibility. If this is how new businesses are being supported by local and national Government, we are not amused.
On Saturday 9th February, we were joined in the shop by the talented J.D.Irwin (a.k.a Julie!). Why? Because we ran a creative writing competition with the lovely Julie as our guest judge and Saturday was prize giving day.
There was a fantastic energy as people came together, not just to celebrate their own achievements, but to delight in the joys of writing.
For once I'm not going to say too much, because the wonderful stories speak for themselves. I will just say a huge thanks to Julie for making the final tough decision and an even bigger thanks to the wonderful children of Brentwood for picking up a pen or pencil and letting their imaginations run wild.
Here are the runners' up and winners' fantastic stories. We chose to scan in their writing, rather than type them up, because the children's penmanship and illustration is so beautiful.
It was a bitterly cold day in Brentwood, Mr. Frog's legs shook from the cold making it very difficult to hop along Crown Street. He had of course wrapped up warm, in his best jeans, a thick wool jumper in beige and his brown leather shoes, all topped off with a black leather beret. Mr. Frog was looking very smart indeed. Why had Mr. Frog put in all that effort for his shopping trip? Mr. Frog was in love.
At the end of Crown Street, there was a little shop called Mrs. Chicken's Vegetable Emporium. Mrs. Chicken had been married to Mr. Chicken who had left her for Ms Spring Chicken several years earlier. Mrs. Chicken was definitely an independent bird.
"I'm so nervous" Mr. Frog had told Mr. Badger. "I just saw her smile and my heart skipped a beat". Mr. Badger replied "Hmm do chickens have lips"? Mr. Frog decided to visit Mrs. Chicken's Vegetable Emporium to find out.
As Mr. Frog approach the door way to the shop, he could see Mrs. Chicken talking to a customer. She was truly a beautiful chicken with the longest eyelashes Mr. Frog had ever seen. He felt himself blush and picked up a couple of potatoes and pretended to marvel at their quality.
Mrs. Chicken waved to Mr. Frog. She drew in a long breath and walked over to him. "Can I help you Mr. Frog" she asked, her eyelashes fluttering. "MY GOD", thought Mr. Frog. "She knows my name!.
That night they sat in Mr. Frog's kitchen, eating the delicious homemade carrot and leek soup. They talked and talked, they laughed and laughed and stayed up all night until the daylight shone through the kitchen window.
"I should be going home" Mrs. Chicken sighed "but maybe tomorrow you would like to come to my house for dinner". Mr. Frog could of hopped across the room "oh Mrs. Chicken, I would be delighted" "Mr. Frog, please call me Valerie" said Mrs. Chicken. "Ok Valerie" said Mr. Frog "you can call me Herbert".
Mr. Frog suddenly thought about what Mr. Badger had said "do chicken have lips". At the kitchen door he leaned in and kissed Mrs. Chicken and Mrs. Chicken kissed him back. "Yes" he thought "Chickens do have lips".
Of course Mr. Frog, (Herbert to his friends) and Mrs. Chicken (Valerie to her friends) met up many times for soup and eventually Mr. Frog proposed and they were married on the beach at Southend on Sea.
If you happen to walk by the Mr. & Mrs. Frog-Chicken Vegetable Emporium on Crown Street, be sure to give them both a wave.
I've had a funny sort of day today. Not funny ha-ha, just a bit odd because events took me out of my usual Thursday routine. Every other week Thursdays are a shop day, however this week I went to 'work', but not work work. Instead I travelled to South Kensington (very fancy), for a training day with the wonderful leadership team I am part of at school.
There were many things about my day which threw me off kilter. For a start I travelled by train, whereas I normally get to drive in the comfort of my own car, where I can sing (ok, not sing in the conventional sense). I always look forward to train journeys and then about 10 minutes in I remember why I haven't been in one for an age. They're like a doctor's waiting room. Why don't we speak to each other in this country? The only person that spoke on the first leg of my journey was a mum who kept on telling her daughters off for speaking too loudly whilst playing on their phone. Horrid.
Then I got terrible window display envy as I sauntered passed Harrods (in my Primark wardrobe). They have a full size Chinese dragon, with moving jaws. It kind of puts my plan of swishy material and lanterns into pathetic perspective that's for sure!
The day improved as I indulged in lots of yummy food, coupled with a thought-provoking course on effective, assertive leadership. A slight down-turn again, as it took me over two hours to complete a relatively short journey, meaning that I scooted into the shop with just enough time to book in some freshly delivered stock, before staring tuition sessions. Breath! Got home, kissed the kids, went out again for a parents' evening for Radish Number 1, terribly unhealthy take away and now to blogging, which is a thinly disguised excuse to avoid the ever-growing pile of ironing which is threatening to take over the house!
Anyway, the point of this blog post? Not sure if I'm honest. I was going to get on my high horse about people not reading vs people reading on the train, but I'm too tired. I did notice that the majority of readers were men with a newspaper. There were a sprinkling of e-readers and only one book (not including my own). Sadly most people had earphones in and were texting furiously throughout, whilst maintaining absolutely no eye contact with a fellow traveller.
Make of this post what you will. I solemnly swear not to ramble in such an unfocussed fashion ever again (honest).