Monday 28 November 2011

The Homespun Fair, Portscatho.


T’was a month before Christmas,

The gals, Jane and Gertie,

Opened the doors of the hall

At ten thirty.



And in came the shoppers

Carrying baskets

Looking for gifts

Unique and fantastic!




The stalls they were brimming

With much vintage lushness

The shoppers were bustling

With a sort of ‘rushes’!



The music was festive,

Of the right flavour!

The goods on display

Were a feast, just to savour



There were stalls with pizzazz

And stalls with the glitz

Stalls with scarves

Stalls with mitts



Fine linens and cloths

Pretty embroidery

Bows, rings and bangles

Lovely jewellery!



Baubles and crackers

Vintage of course

Children’s toys and

An old rocking horse.




Puzzles and books

Dolls and stuffed toys

Something for girls

Something for boys



Christmas cards, calendars

Fabrics and quilts

Pieces of tartan

For making cute kilts!




Sewing boxes galore

Ribbons and beads

Everything for

The crafter’s needs





T’was the month before Christmas

This place full of fun

The fair…it’s name was

The Homespun!



For sure you can't beat

A good vintage fair

If there's one near you

Be sure to get there!



You'll find goodies galore

The high street it beats

And of course there are plenty

Of vintage treats!



So a big thanks must go

To Jane and to Gertie

For opening the doors

Prompt at ten thirty




AND a big ‘well done’ to

Gertie and Jane

We look forward to visiting

Portscatho, again.




2 comments:

  1. Great pix as always.. and a poem too! Bless you! xxx

    ReplyDelete
  2. I recall the day I spent
    At the Homespun, Portscatho
    My wife was hell bent
    On a fair prior to crimbo

    She made me load the car
    The night before, quite early
    The fabrics, tea and coffee jar
    Her smile so wide and pearly

    On the road at six
    Westbound along the A30
    She's off to get her fix
    Vintage, down and dirty

    The day was as expected
    Scenic, bright and blue
    Full tables all erected
    Shabby chic through and through

    The visitors poured in and in
    The deals were made and done
    The ladies all parted with a grin
    Their partners left hung drawn

    And now the journey home
    To masculine pursuits perhaps
    No! Strictly come dancing
    With TV suppers on their laps

    So if you are ever asked
    What is the very point
    Of beer bottled, draught or casked
    It's to pay the men and not for needlepoint.

    ReplyDelete

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