... be careful what you wish for, it might come true.
I’ve always wanted to have a shop, I’m a shop girl at heart.
What sort of shop depended on my stage of life. In my twenties I worked in the shop of my young, free and single dreams. Exquisite clothes, eye watering price tags, clients who would travel the length of Britain twice a year to buy the next season’s wardrobe. This was the seventies and even then the bills would run into several thousands of pounds.
My first baby came along and I dreamed of a children’s shop. Classic well made clothes. Old fashioned sailor suits and dungarees, Liberty print, hand smocked dresses, no Barbie pink or sparkly tiaras in my emporium. Tasteful wooden toys carefully crafted by local artisans. I realise, of course, my daughter would always have chosen the Barbie pink over the tasteful Liberty and my boys would far rather have had the plastic light sabre than the hand hewn wooden sword, but there you go. After four babies I fear my shop would’ve been fearfully neglected.
But now those babes have grown and flown the nest my restless head has turned to the shop of my present day dreams. A shop selling gorgeous things. High end, quality gorgeous things. Things I would love to surround myself with, gift to loved ones but can’t buy in our beautiful corner of Northumberland. We may have fabulous beaches and fantastic scenery, but the retail sector is pretty poorly served.
A place to serve the best coffee, real tea made with tea leaves, for surely teabags are the work of Lucifer himself? and exquisite hot chocolate for the beach blown passer by.
It shall have squashy sofas and glossy magazines for the retail reluctant partners. The latest copy of Country Life or Shooting Times, Rugby World or The Cricketer, Vogue or Tatler. No weary waiting sighs here.
I am about to realise my dream, share my journey……….