>Biscuit Mill Saturday Market

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So my aunt is down (or up…or sideways) from San Francisco and we all decided to go to the Biscuit Mill for a chilled morning browse through the shops, stalls and (most importantly) the foooooood.

It was my first time ever and I had an…interesting experience. First off everyone, and i mean EVERyone, there is dressed to kill in their leather-like boots, indie hats and vintage dresses but jeesh the overall attitude of the place played havoc with my hippy-go-lucky vibe.

But also, by the time I got there I really need to use the ladies and after spending 20 headless-chicken mniutes trying to figure out just where these are I slipped into the first (and only) open stall I could, unbuttoned my jeans and plonked my self down. It was at this moment or pure joy that I realised that the door didn’t have a latch and someone very abruptly disrupted my relief of finding a bathroom by charging right in.

You can imagine the situation – me, sitting there, my jeans around my ankles trying desperately to cover up any piece of skin i thought would be inappropriate to share (i realised once she had left that the skin i chose to cover up were my knees – um, huh?).

It didn’t stop there, i was just recovering from my embarrassing uncovering when another woman brazenly shoved the door open to find me wide-eyed and very much exposed staring back at her.

Sigh. The rest of the day was lovely. We ambled along, checking out the (expensive) beautiful things for sale, reached the food tent/area and forgot all about “that stunning dress” or “those perfect-for-my-feet-shoes) and eagerly ordered some nourishment. Afterwards my two cousins and I found the beer tent where we sat, drinknig beer and mojitos It was lovely.

At this point I realised that Francois van Coke was sitting behind me (from Fokofpolisiekar) and I made the mistake of telling the Marja (she had previously watched their DVD with the lovely drummer and I). She promptyl tapped him on the shoulder, introduced me to him and carried on telling him how much she doesn’t “really like your band name” but the DVD was very well-made and how she also came from an afrikaans background so she “can relate”.

Me = stunned. Oh heavens.To be fair he was really chilled and actually chatted to me about Rocking the Daisies and their next gig.

We also met a staffy (spelling?) called ‘Pablo’. Anyways here are some pics of the day:

Tell me sweet things

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