It’s a small world

We have all heard the statement ‘it’s a small world’. It couldn’t have taken on more significance than yesterday.

Gay and I set up our stall at the nearby market, she selling homemade ware and me my books. I hadn’t expected to get any sales, not because I am pessimistic, but because I just felt that I wouldn’t, yesterday. It was Gay’s prompting that spurred me on to a second attempt at this market.

Gay was immediately busy with sales. She is clever and people were particularly taken with her little folk, small woollen creations, intricately sewn together. She also had dish cloths, cards and broaches among her collection. Unique gifts, priced right, make the perfect Christmas present and people were showing this with their purchases.

I visited nearby stalls, ate some of the lovely food on offer and sat on our comfy couch for the rest of our three-hour stint at this market. The atmosphere was amazing, with guitar players adding to the mix and it was nice catching up with several friends.

I made three sales, which as I stated already, were more than I expected. The first woman to show any interest, many people just waltzed on by, not appearing to see me perched beside Gay, was a person about my age. We got talking and it turns out she lives just down the road from me and also used to be a massage therapist. She bought a copy of The Collective Us and appeared to be excited at doing so, expressing a keen interest in the topic.

The next was one of my favourite clients whom I hadn’t seen for a number of years. She used to visit while up from Auckland and now apparently lives locally. It was nice catching up with her.

But it was the third who spurred on the title of today’s blog.

This woman, whom I shall call Judith, entered with friends of ours, one of these friends being another member of our writing group. They passed us by but said they would be back. When they returned, they stood and talked from a slight distance, then I noticed my friend pointing out my books to Judith, most likely saying that I was in the writing group with her. All of a sudden Judith became quite animated. ‘’I was just given this book to read two days ago,’’ she said, picking up a copy of Who is Me? That comment didn’t particularly surprise me, as many of the locals had bought my book some years ago.

‘’Who gave it to you?’’ I asked, thinking it would be from one of these people. That’s where the surprise came. Judith was from Katikati and it was her friend and neighbour who had passed on the book and only two days ago at that. It turns out Judith, who has been life-long friends with the couple she was visiting the market with, was also friends with my friend, Patty. I had boarded with Patty’s mother when I did my massage course, meeting her family of five daughters and a son, often. And then Patty’s husband got a job in New Plymouth for several months and Patty and I spent quite a bit of time together while they were there. I had sent Patty a copy of my book a couple of years ago.

I thought the synchronicity of her receiving the book when she did was significant too. It was only two days before she left for her visit up north. Judith bought a copy of The Collective Us to give to Patty. I am sure she will be as surprised as I was, to realise the connection.

It is a small world.