First frosts and Feein's.

Monday brought the first frost of the winter and a beautiful day. Autumn is the best time of year when it's clear and dry like this.

Monday also brought in a customer with an appallingly wet and sneezy cold who seemed determined to browse intimately every book on the shelves. Perhaps she has been employed by the government as a germ warfare agent to suppress the populace? Believers in conspiracy theories and dystopian futures will understand where I am coming from.

The footfall into the shop increases as the winter grows closer. A book of 'Cornkisters' that I bought from Jane on Sunday sold on Monday. This time of year itinerant agricultural workers would be going to the 'Feein' markets to find work for the next season. It must have been a bit like a slave market in some ways, those wanting to be hired hanging around with their hands in their pockets (or not if they had more self respect) as they were eyed up by the local farmers for signs of strength, stamina and, vitally, 'good character.' Tom tells me that the reliable workers already known to the farmers could sometimes get a special deal to entice them to sign on, like the chap who got the deposit for a motor bike he coveted so he could visit his sweetheart in the next town. He worked off the deposit during the winter months. Those employed by the same farmer would generally live together for the season in a bothy with no entertaiment except what they provided for themselves (and, I suppose, the drink) so the Bothy Ballad, or 'Cornkister' was born. The subject can be anything but is most often sentimental memories of a town or village, or about a girl.

The Feeins in some areas have morphed into annual events on the social calendar as Farmer's Markets and get-together's designed to draw in trade for the shops before the lean times and to raise money for charity.