THE STALL AT THE TOLL CLOCK

My friend Neil Robertson must be mentioned in despatches here. He gave up part of his Saturday morning to transport my chattels and me, through snow-covered roads, to the Toll Clock Centre, and did the same run in reverse at the end of my day's trading, such as it was. I thank him from the bottom of my heart. I have never passed a driving test, and probably would not be able to afford to run a car in today's financial climate, supposing I had. Friends and family have to make up for my shortcomings in this area, and yesterday's friend in need was Neil.

The stall was not a successful venture, largely because of the snowfall, which kept all but the mad and the needful snug and warm at their firesides. I sold one A4 giclee print, and nearly twenty postcards, which was remarkable, considering the sparseness of the buying public around the Centre. Quite a few people picked up my leaflets, mentioning the possibility of future commissions, so the value of Saturday's effort is actually quite difficult to quantify. The place was freezing, and I was glad to get back to my little flat to thaw out and contemplate another attempt, perhaps in a fortnight's time if space is available.