05/08/2026
This!
Mr Grumpy's Mutterings – August Edition
Ey up...
How's that happened then?
It's August already.
I'm convinced somebody's pinching days. One minute we're all moaning it's too cold, next minute folk are asking what weekends the Christmas Markets are on.
Now don't get me wrong... we love Christmas. We make a living out of Christmas Markets...
But honestly...
Some people have started planning Christmas dinners, organising Secret Santas, buying wrapping paper and discussing whether the tree should be silver, gold or "Scandinavian Minimalist."
Scandinavian what?
It's August.
AUGUST!
Some of us are still trying to remember where we left the barbecue.
It's 22 degrees outside, Margaret.
Pack it in.
Anyway...
A massive thank you to everyone who came to Skipton Artisan Market and White Rose Shopping Centre last weekend.
It actually felt like a proper market again. Plenty of people about, traders were busy, there was a real buzz in the air and, best of all, the footfall was back where we'd expect it to be. It was great seeing so many familiar faces, along with plenty of new ones discovering our markets for the first time.
Long may it continue.
This Sunday we're off to lovely Settle.
If you've never been, where have you been hiding?
Cracking little town.
Independent shops.
Great cafés.
Lovely pubs.
Proper Yorkshire.
Then the weekend after it's Haworth, where you'll find enough hills to remind you you're not as fit as you thought you were. Cobbled streets, cracking little businesses, plenty of places to eat and drink and another fantastic Artisan Market.
Come and make a day of it.
Support local.
Eat too much.
Buy something you didn't know you needed.
Standard Yorkshire day out.
Now then...
Can someone explain something to me?
Why do perfectly sensible people completely lose all sense of direction the minute they arrive at a market?
You'll walk perfectly normally down the High Street...
Then you spot a stall selling chutney and suddenly it's like someone's hit the emergency stop button.
You stop dead.
Right in the middle of the street.
No warning.
No indication.
Nothing.
Then you decide it's the perfect time for a twenty-minute catch-up about Brenda's gall bladder operation from 2018, how Kevin's bad back is "playing up again", and whether Sandra's lad ever got that new shed.
Meanwhile there's a queue of about forty people behind you trying to squeeze past like they're navigating the M62 on a Bank Holiday Friday.
JUST...
SHIFT OVER A BIT.
We're not asking you to run the London Marathon.
Just move two feet to one side.
It'll not hurt.
And families...
Do you all have to walk six abreast?
Honestly, there's more room in the peloton at the Tour de France.
Give the rest of us half a chance!
Some of us are actually trying to get to the pie stall before they sell out.
Now then...
Dogs...
Before Facebook Police get warmed up...
We LOVE dogs.
Honestly.
Some of them are better behaved than their owners.
Bring them.
We love saying hello.
We love giving them a fuss.
We even forgive them for completely ignoring us after we've made daft noises trying to get their attention.
BUT...
Can we stop letting them wee on traders' stalls?
Honestly...
Gazebo legs...
Weights...
Display stands...
Tablecloths...
I've even seen one aiming at somebody's boxes.
Now I know dogs don't know any better.
That's why they come with owners.
If your dog is sniffing every gazebo weight like it's doing a wine tasting...
There's a fair chance it's about to christen it.
Move it along.
Simple.
Because I don't know many traders who enjoy packing away equipment that's just had a warm golden shower from next door's Labradoodle.
Would you like it if I popped round your house and had a little wee against your front door?
Or your hanging basket?
Or your wheelie bin?
No?
Thought not.
Another thing...
Weather forecasts.
What a job that must be.
Get paid for being wrong.
"It's definitely raining."
Blue skies.
"Wall-to-wall sunshine."
Flood warnings.
I reckon they write the forecast, shut the curtains and hope for the best.
Then there's...
"I'm only looking."
Brilliant.
Have a look.
Nobody's forcing you to buy anything.
Markets are for browsing.
Have a chat.
Ask questions.
That's half the fun.
But don't spend twenty-five minutes asking a trader every question known to mankind...
"Where's it made?"
"Can I smell it?"
"Have you got it in blue?"
"Will it fit?"
"Can you make one with my dog's name on?"
Only to finish with...
"I'll have a look on Amazon."
You couldn't make it up.
And while we're having a little moan...
Can we all stop expecting artisan markets to sell supermarket prices?
You're buying from real people.
Not a warehouse.
Not a multinational.
Not a robot.
It's somebody who's spent all week baking, making, creating or crafting. They've loaded the van at silly o'clock, driven across Yorkshire, stood on their feet all day with a smile on their face...
..then get told...
"I saw one a bit cheaper online."
Well...
Off you pop then.
We'll still be here next month.
Now, before I finish having a good old Yorkshire grumble...
One thing I have noticed lately...
It feels like we're getting back to what these markets were always meant to be.
A proper little family.
Not just us organisers...
The traders too.
Helping each other unload.
Watching each other's stalls while someone nips for a bacon butty.
Lending a gazebo weight.
Borrowing a roll of tape.
Giving someone a hand when the wind decides to join in.
Taking the mickey out of each other.
Having a brew together.
That's what an Artisan Market should be.
Not worrying about who sold three candles more than next door.
Not counting how many customers your neighbour had.
Not spending all day looking sideways instead of forwards.
Life's far too short.
If you're the sort of person who spends all day bitching...
Sniping...
Gossiping...
Or stirring the pot because you've got nowt better to do...
..you're probably at the wrong market.
We're all on the same team.
When one stall looks busy, it attracts people.
When lots of stalls look busy, everyone benefits.
It's not rocket science.
Markets should be somewhere traders actually enjoy coming.
Not somewhere that feels like an episode of Coronation Street with gazebos.
We've always tried to create a friendly atmosphere where people help each other, have a laugh, take the mickey and pull together.
Let's keep it that way.
Because at the end of the day...
A happy market is a busy market...
And a busy market is good for everybody.
Despite all my muttering...
It's been brilliant seeing the markets busy again.
Children dancing to the music.
Friends catching up.
People enjoying our wonderful Yorkshire towns.
Independent traders smiling because they've had a decent day's trading.
That's exactly what it's all about.
So thank you to every single one of you who comes along, buys local and supports independent businesses.
You're the reason we keep doing it.
We'll see you this Sunday in Settle, then it's Haworth the following weekend.
Come and have a wander.
Grab a coffee.
Buy something nice.
Have a laugh.
And if you're bringing the dog...
Please let it wee on a tree instead of Barry's gazebo weights.
Cheers then...
Mr Grumpy
"Yorkshire's Happiest Miserable Git."
