bored of excitement – the griefjunkie blog 

Dear Rachel

A few years ago, when Camden first began to really slide, its decline was slowed by the Israeli traders bringing awesome stuff. Then, the Israelis stopped coming, and the Chinese came instead. Then the Chinese stopped coming, and it was left to the mentally ill to fill the breech. Camden is now in a situation where even the mentally ill – and anyone who has traded the Lock can name the human timebombs – have realised that they’re backing the wrong horse. So when, like us, you find that you’re supporting an outlet in an environment that even people who hear voices telling them that they are Pontius Pilate have realised is no good, it may be time to consider your overall strategic approach.

This is not exactly news, of course. It was half-man half-debris East Yard plastic handbag magnate Pikey Dave who first pointed out that Camden had become a place where you buy rubbish and sell it to idiots. This has always been substantially true, and was a remarkable observation for a man who smells of stolen motorbikes. Also, I leant him a pen once, and he tarmacced it.

[Hitting Read More now will reveal cold weather skillz]

I tend to think that if you do what you always do, you’ll get what you always get. Furthermore, you should wherever possible grab life by the balls – or by the tits if you are a lady. It is with this sort of attitude to the fore that Tony will be taking our weekend Camden pitch on a bit of holiday for a few weeks at least, while we attempt to find somewhere nicer to put it.

I am, incidentally, behind our Greenwich apron pitch as I write this. I don’t know how many layers of clothing I am wearing, but it is at least several, and probably loads. None of the markets are looking clever at the moment what with the time of year and the cold and all that. In the winter months my internal organs automatically contract into an area the size and shape of a snooker cue, with everything else taken up by blubber, in the manner of a seal pup. I also rely more heavily on one of my tried and tested strategies for dealing with the general public, which is simply to answer ‘I’m sorry I don’t understand’ a lot. Frequent questions that can be dealt with in this way include: ‘These are brilliant – is there anywhere I can get them printed cheaper?’, ‘These are brilliant – but have you got any that are blank?’, ‘These are brilliant – but it’s a lot of money to pay for a phrase’ through to the genuinely baffling ‘These are brilliant – but this is just something you thought of, isn’t it?’

Still, I have at least been able to write this while sitting here, which saves me doing it at home. If you can’t make money, make time – which is the kind of thing you have to say to yourself when you discover, as I just have, that despite having a roof over you, you are still somehow getting snowed on.

Photards: Top: Storage area, Greenwich Market.

Middle: Danny and Winkle. You’ll have to take my word for this, but they were trying to impress the understandably departing lady on the left by argueing about which of them learned to ride a bicycle first.

Bottom: Cold day in Greenwich. This view from behind the pitch is of the busiest part of the market, at the busiest time of the day. I have to make a living from that. Tricky.

Twitter: Oh go on then.

Facebook: Amazingly, no losses this week, so still holding steady at 103. I assume this is because everyone is huddling together for warmth.