Say Cheese.

I worked for a time for a print company in Gloucester. I sold print. I enjoyed it. I was supposed to pull in the smaller customers who were not necessarily used to print or did not see a need for it. I’d got this proper job after a life drawing cartoons and was ready for a change.

The local farmers market in the city which happened every Friday morning at the Cross, was a happy hunting ground for potential customers. All small businesses, they were quite easy to engage in conversation if they were ‘quiet’ and as long as I bought something from them they put up with my own sales talk. I tried to go there at least every other week, and as a result we usually had something tasty for that weekend.

Mrs Hill sold their own farm brie. I suspect she was not over enamoured of standing around at the Cross every week trying to sell her brie. Husband was the farmer, she the reluctant farmers wife. At least I detected reluctance on her part. She made no great effort to sell, just displayed the produce to the people and read her copy of the Telegraph. A tall handsome woman who looked slightly out of place and who might in other circumstances have been Lady of the Manoir.

I’m not quite sure now how I came to take a photo of their cheese. I always took my camera to the market and on this particular sunny day, as I recall, I’d bought some local apples, plonked them next to the cheese and took a few pictures. They were used for a mini leaflet for them. The cheese was absolutely delicious. Unforgetable

I can find no trace of them now.

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