where everyone knows her name...

On Thursday I went to work with Margaret. When I arrived I knocked on the door and there was a girl looking around. Margaret had left a customer in charge of her shop while re-parking her car. She makes all her customers tea and passes round ginger snaps. I spent nearly 4 hours clearing things up and finding treasures under huge piles of vintage textiles. Today I sorted jewellery which she admitted to hating. She just puts it in a drawer to hide it away, tangling and piling up into a glittery mess.



This little fella isn't for sale

This was hiding inside an old straw hat. Margaret knows the origin of almost all of the things in her shops, especially scraps of lace. This is from Poland. She doesn't know what its for or why she has it.


This isn't for sale either. She says sometimes she gets so sad when she sells things that she has to keep one or two items in case she doesn't find anything like it again...