I haven’t allowed myself to go to Spitalfields for a while now. I have been working through my own pile of magazines, and avoiding buying more. This doesn’t mean I don’t love the ones I’ve been working with, nor that the images aren’t as beautiful, but there’s something extra exciting about using something you’ve just bought. It’s like wearing a new piece of clothing; you get to see if it looks as good as you hoped it would, when you parting with your cash.
So, with only a couple of magazines left, I thought it was a legitimate time to go and scope out some new ones. As I’ve mentioned before, they can be difficult to get hold of – it’s usually not a good idea to wait until you’ve run out before frantically searching for new ones. It somewhat undermines the gentle and shuffling and pottering nature of looking through piles of papers that I so enjoy. On the plus side, I’m getting better at bartering – I now have an actual limitation on what I can spend and it’s genuinely not worth spending anymore, so I can convincing state my price and then go to walk away. It doesn’t always work at lowering the price, but I am able to walk away; I’ve stopped spending too much money at the market, and I quite often see something great a couple of minutes later, that is worth it’s price, to cheer me up.
So, I didn’t manage to find any magazines. That’s not unusual – Spitalfield’s antiques fair isn’t normally a goldmine for those. But I did find a lovely collection of postcards. I think they’re beautiful. I love the tinted colours and beach scenes. It makes me want to go and sit on a beach in blustery weather and eat vingrey chips until my nose and fingertips are pink. An unusal impulse for July perhaps, but in keeping with the recent weather.
They’re also always worth reading. Some of the handwriting is incomprehensible, most of the cards are blank, but some contain some gems. George sent a postcard from The Waterfall, Gilsland, saying ‘Am having/ a good time not quite as good as last year tho’/Nearly got another wife but/Remembered in time you know.’
I would love to receive a good few similarly frank and intriguing postcards. Who wouldn’t?