What’s a market without bunting?

Well tickle me side­ways. Ask, and ye shall receive! As we pre­pare the final touches for Sunday we’ve star­ted to send out some simple requests. One, which went along the lines of:

We all know it wouldn’t be a mar­ket without bunt­ing right? If you have any (any, what­so­ever) please share it with us!”

I’ve had it fixed in my head that bunt­ing must be sought for mar­ket day.

We’ve had some great responses to the call out and I was reminded of a Yid­dish folk­tale in a book that I had pur­chased in one of West Norwood’s fine char­ity shops some time ago.

I thought I’d share a hazy (and abridged) ver­sion of the tale…

There was once a poor and eld­erly rabbi who lived in Warsaw. Lonely and embittered with life’s mis­for­tunes, the old rabbi would often dream. Over time he real­ised that he was hav­ing the same dream, again and again. The place in his dream was strangely famil­i­ar to him, but he couldn’t quite fig­ure out how so. A few details did stick out and stay with him dur­ing his wak­ing hours.

And increas­ingly so. He could see a wide river, a bridge and under that bridge a door. Every now and then images from his dream would return to him and one day very sud­denly he con­vinced him­self that behind that door lay a huge pot of gold.

The dream, now grow­ing stronger, was as if some invi­ol­able force was tug­ging at him. The only thing he knew was that it was in Krakow as the bridge and river were famil­i­ar from his child­hood. So determ­ined was the poor old rabbi that he decided against his bet­ter judge­ment to travel the long dis­tance and find this gold. He arrived in Krokow and found the place he was look­ing for. On arrival he dis­covered that there was a burly and unwel­com­ing look­ing man sat by the door’s entrance. He thought how best to approach him. After a while, and with little in the way of a plan, he asked the man out­right if he could see what was behind the door. The man refused. The rabbi then thought why not tell the man that there’s gold behind the door and that if they could both get it open he’d share the bounty with him. The burly man gave out a hearty laugh. “Ha! Old man there’s noth­ing behind the door other than empty wine bar­rels.” He con­tin­ued, “Funny though, as I’ve been hav­ing this strange dream about a pot of gold behind an old rabbi’s cook­ing stove & he looks very much like you! Hahaha!”

Dejec­ted and heavy-hearted the old rabbi returned on his long jour­ney home. As des­ti­tute and poor as ever, the dreams he once had began to fade. It was some months later that he remembered what the burly man had told him when wak­ing up one morn­ing.

He rushed to his cook­ing stove and with great effort man­aged to inch it away from the wall bit by bit. Lo and behold there, sat in a hole in the wall, was a pot of gold.

Well, con­grat­u­la­tions if you’re still read­ing. I think the idea is that the treas­ure is often right in front of you if you know where (and how) to look…

I know I may have laboured the point but I’m really excited about Sunday and really keen on see­ing the wealth and tal­ent that is being drawn from the area.

See you Sunday (3rd April)!

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