People were packing up, but in that sort of languid way that you do when you've had a good day. There was a basket weaving stall, and one where you could make your own stool, and beautiful pyrography items, and felted pictures. While I watched, two little boys were having their names burned into the tops of stools they had just made themselves, by the pyrography ladies. The Shepherds ice cream van was there, and a clay pizza oven. Adele Nozedar was there, with her Garden Forager book, and there was this:
The lady who designed this apparently makes a different mandala every month, and then produces a calendar of the pictures.
On the way home, I met Isabelle and her dog. She's an elderly lady who used to live in Hay but now has a place in Glasbury, and I carried her bag down to the bus stop by the Clock Tower for her - only to find that the bus had gone about an hour before, and there was no sign of any timetable for the Browns bus that also runs on that route. While we were standing there, wondering what to do, the chap from Rose's Books came out and locked up. He didn't know about the bus times either, but he was willing to run Isabelle home in his car.
After all that, I thought I deserved a pint in the Rose and Crown - I'd seen Brian on the way up the hill, and arranged to meet him there. He knows Isabelle too - when she lived in Hay he once stayed up with her until two in the morning when she locked herself out of her house. The police weren't interested, the people who had her spare key were on holiday in Africa (and lived in Dorstone anyway), and they had to call a locksmith out from Hereford.
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