I love that feeling on saturday morning when u wake up early, then realise you dont have to work, so can just roll over and go back to bed ...well until Summer. Wakes you anyway. This morning I woke up naturally at 9:30 unusually Summer wasnt poking me in the eyes or trying to stuff the cat in my knickers. The house was silent so I knew there was trouble occuring, I just had to seek it out. She wasnt upstairs, she wasnt watching TV or cooking a mud pie in the kitchen. Panic (my old friend) started to set in. Then I heard her voice from outside.
"You can have a shell and a bow, or just a bow. But not a shell on its own."
Then an older ladies voice "so you have to buy a bow either way"
I walk over to the window to see what the hell is going on. Then take the scene all in.
Summer has woken up, god knows what time, has gotten her self dressed, and set up a stall outside in the front garden. She has 2 tables, one table has shells (collected on the beach last weekend) and a table of hand made bows (made of ripped paper) she is modelling one in her hair. There are also a couple of illegable signs and she is sat behind her stall waiting for passing trade in desperate need of shells and bows. When the coast is clear I rush outside.
"You cant ask people for money... Its not fair Summer...how much are you asking for? "
"Fifty,hundred and twenty pounds... for this bow"
I decide that this is harmless fun, entrepenurial fun. Which is a positive sign. A step up from when she offers people a dance for a pound. I leave her to it and get on with the morning chores.
I keep an eye on her and watch as the neighbours come back and forth to her stall and applaud them for giving Summer some of there time.
After a few hours I decide its getting to cold and its time to pack up the stall. I have a look at Summers stock. The bows have all but gone, and she now has double the shells as well as a collection of nautical themed figureins .
I am confused, I cant figure out where these new exotic shells and bits and bobs have come from. I ask Summer.
"Well you said not to take their money, so they paid me in shells and now I have all these and this boat and octopus...they gave me these for the bows, which is great because the bows are a bit rubbish really and now I can sell their shells and make some real monies"
The old dears of the street either got confused or were told straight by Summer ,had gone off and gathered there shells , collected from pension walks over the years and traded them with Summer for bows made of newspaper and closer magazine. Those who didnt have shells traded in glass octopus and wooden boats.
Summer is chuffed with her booty and has displayed her swag on her bedroom floor and it looks like Brighton Beach up there. I am secretly pleased, she is showing some business acumen. Maybe there is hope after all.