The market place

I leaned against an ash - the only remaining tree in what was once the old market place, hoping nobody was watching me watch the Wednesday crowds push-shove their frantic way to and from the now near empty stalls! 

Centuries ago this much visited area had been a large grassy place where would-be workers turned up carrying an example of his or her work. Be it mallet, scythe, ladder, scrubbing brush or whatever - whichever the implement it was a sign to a future employer of a possible worthy worker to be hired as required for a season, a seasonal eviction, or life until death.

A would-be auctioneer would beckon the handyman or woman to the front then demand bids from would be employers. Each such lot would be over and done with barely a nod and within minutes. 

Red-haired Jessie North was a lass of fifteen. She was to become a ma at sixteen, its father unknown.  Fortunately, perhaps, who knows - she was retained by her church-going master and mistress as needlewoman for their first child. 

Barak Stoch was a gardener and scaler of trees - many brought to this country by way of voyages around the world.  His da before him had been a seaman, then an assistant to the master for nigh on fifty years. However, came a time when Ephraim knew far more than his father, having taught himself how to read and write.  Hence at the age of twenty  he was near blind in one eye. 

I thought of those two young people as I watched the modern day market empty its jelly wobbling-like debris into vast bins 'til the clattering, all-cursing garbage collectors came to cause near chaos amongst the pigeons!  

Author's Note

Farm workers, labourers, servants and some craftsmen would work for their employer from October to October. At the end of the employment they would attend the mop fair dressed in their Sunday best clothes and carrying an item signifying their trade. A servant with no particular skills would carry a mop head.[6] The 'tassle' worn on their lapel was the emblem of the employee's trade - for instance shepherds would wear a piece of wool in their buttonholes, whereas farmers might hold a piece of straw,[8] and this tassle became known as a 'mop', hence the term "mop fair.[6] Hiring fairs were also known as statute fairs (or statutes) because an Act of Parliament of 1677 endorsed the yearly bonds made between masters and servants at them.[9]

Reviews

[Lorry]

Can just picture you pondering those two folk over a culpa as you watch the extras in your cinematic window clear up after a bunch of busy bargain hunters, watching all the unsold memories waiting for an owner.
I was at a market yesterday, or I almost was because we decided to go to a Cafe for breakfast and before the last of the coffee was slurped the whole market was cancelled by an impromptu and immensely annoying downpour.
My only thought as I finished my coffee was that the market staff should be put in charge of the country. Within two minutes the crowds had scattered leaving only stall holders pulling on tarpaulins and refilling their vans, with hardly a tut uttered.
With efficiency like that do we really need committees, or politicians for that matter.
Ironically enough, Katie was on the lookout for a new mop and bucket, so your history lesson will be repeated to her and hopefully it will make her laugh.
After I read this I smiled and said "how frightfully Dickensian," which is what I say in a pretend posh voice any time I pass a launderette.
But not when I want my duvet cleaned. It's so billy thickly that I wouldn't trust my washing machine with it! 😃

[Vol]

EmmaJoy,
See? that's what I mean. You have a place you can visit a place with hundreds of years of important local history. There is a good chance the names you mentioned can be found in the local cemetery. People, my ancestors are some of them... It's why I want to wallow in your soil, rub it in, eat some of it... to carry with me till I die.

[Thomas W Case]

You paint a powerful and vivid scene. Tremendous work.

[Mauricio Montoya]

Wow Emma you write stories, I usually don't even read them, lol I exit but out of respect I read wow you know my imagination when I comment but you write first line , made me think of pike market in Seattle Wa
I know this story is many moon's across the sea but this city West of here has a market market where the story could be the same, love your Work because I may not understand some of the words but your flow open my imagination between brakes to read more thank you for sharing hey check out Pike Market there this old sign that's been for years, Ps it's excellent in what I read.

[emmajoygreen]

Great to 'see' you and thank you so much for your interest in this story. Will certainly look up Pike Market. in the light of day, is now 05.33. Please take care of yourself, please.

[Mauricio Montoya]

Yes u do the same

[Rachid Amrani]

A well written story. I devoured every word, every line with hunger until the end. You took us to a fascinating world and introduced us to the people of that world. Good command of the language and style. Well written.

[emmajoygreen]

Many thank s, Rachid Amrani. The story is true, based on British history, men, women and children in some case, turned up to the market place carrying the tools of their trade. In due course they were displayed and then auctioned for the highest price for varying lengths of time.
These day, life is one big aution where work is concerned?!

[Rachid Amrani]

Well said. It reminds me of my native town. Every Saturday the weekly air market was held where people could buy their supplies for the week. There were also physically-able men displaying their axes and hoes. They were strangers from far away towns looking to find work, digging water wells.

[emmajoygreen]

Oh my, so many people all over, have to move from their place of birth to find work, is a tragedy for those who want to be 'at home' near families.

[Rachid Amrani]

Absolutely right. Unfortunately this trend of people moving to other places to look for work still persists in our modern days. Even in larger scale now.

[emmajoygreen]

Same here. Once families lived in the same road, now to find work or/and a home they can afford they need to move anywhere possible. A sad necessity, Life alters ever five years now, used to be ten. Thanks again. Stay safe and well. j

[Rachid Amrani]

Well said, Emma. It is really a sad necessity. Always a pleasure reading your works and interacting with you. Thanks.

[emmajoygreen]

Many, many thanks. Will keep in touch, promise :)

[Tom]

Interesting factual account of a bygone era when the local town market did not just sell household arefacts but actual people were up for auction, keen wealthy bidders paid top price for those that came with a skilled trade...

Kudos EmmaJoy, always enjoy local history, such scenarios were indeed 'the norm' of the day!

[emmajoygreen]

Many thanks, Tom. Our small island has more than its fair share of history! Stay well, happy.

[willweb]

What a wonderful and colorful story of how things once were. It seems hard to believe as we look upon the work force of today to think that people were proud of what they could do and looked forward to finding employment. The two you speak of, sad they didn't find each other that day in the market place. No telling what might have come from that.

[emmajoygreen]

Wanting to add more to the above, trying to find time to organise facts. Thank you very much for your comments.