I'm not sure whether to call it a relocated market, replacing, as it does, the second Lakeside market of the month. Many of the Lakeside stalls have moved to the new location. Or, perhaps, to call it a new market given that it is in a new location and that there are extra stalls and that part of it is inside a hall.
Whatever you call it, the Brown Hill market had its first outing on Saturday. It was a lovely morning so Jim and I hopped in the car and went out to inspect it.
It has been very well advertised in Brown Hill and on Facebook. It had attracted a lot of attention. There were a LOT of people there. So many that it was unpleasantly crowded in the hall, where most of the craft stalls were. So unpleasantly crowded that Jim and I didn't stay in for long so didn't really see what was on offer. Instead we headed outside and strolled around the fruit and vegetable stalls. We came home with apples, mandarins, lemons; cauliflower, romanesco cauliflower, sprouts, carrots, beetroot. We are going to eat well this week, I think. We have so much fruit that it won't fit in the fruit bowl and I've had to press a baking dish into fruity service. I might have to take some mandarins to work with me.
I assume that interest may drop as people get used to it being there. I hope it may become just a little less crowded as time goes by. I wouldn't mind being able to potter around in a slightly less manic manner and see what is being sold inside the hall.
It was just as well the market was on Saturday and not Sunday. The weather was HORRIBLE yesterday. Very, very windy. Heavy rain showers. Cold, wet and miserable. We wouldn't have gone inspecting a new market in that sort of weather. We were up at Hill House dog sitting and Rupert and Hugo flatly refused to go outside unless the need was exceptional. Can't say that I blame them. I didn't want to go outside either.
Jim and I headed back down to our place late in the afternoon. Lindsey came down and joined us for dinner. Her arrival was enlivened by her car making a very peculiar noise, which started shortly after she had set off from her place. She called the RACV breakdown service which said they would have someone at our place inside the hour. In fact, they arrived not very long after, just as we were picking up our knives and forks to eat our steak, mushrooms, Yorkies, roasties and cauliflower cheese. He had the stone which was lodged in the wheel out in seconds and went away. Hardly interrupted dinner at all!
Lindsey and Ian had been out for dinner on Saturday evening in Melbourne. They got back to the flat to find that all the lifts in their building were out of service. I suppose they could have decided to walk up all eleven flights of stairs to get back to their flat, except that you can't get onto the floors from the stairwell. It's a fire escape so you can get onto it from each level but you can't get out from the stairwell itself. I did not know this. Fortunately someone came and repaired a lift so they could get back up to their flat. I had gone to pick up Ian's car on Friday morning (he had gone Up Country by train then come back directly to Ballarat leaving his car in East Melbourne). I was on the Plaza level. The car was in its parking spot down, down below. The car key was up in the flat. One lift was out of service. One was stuck on Level 7. The remaining lift was very very grumpy about having to take everybody up and down and up and down. I thought about going up the stairs but decided that I would very bravely trust the lift. I'm pleased I did. I would not have been at all happy if I had struggled up eleven flights of stairs only to discover that I couldn't get out of the stairwell.
Mind you, this little discovery explains the number of people who take the lift up to level 1 or 2. I had assumed they were just being lazy!
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