For as long as I can remember I have wanted my own shop.
A twee little place with a bell on the door and shelves stacked to the ceiling with pretty things. It has a pale green and white chequerboard floor and cream painted cabinets, and a counter that wraps around the entire room with an old-fashioned till that pings when you close the drawer.
Maybe it's a sweet shop, maybe a haberdashery (I can never quite decide), but it definitely has rows and rows of glass jars filled with colourful things that I can sell in green and white striped paper bags. And it smells delicious. Like candy floss or cupcakes or cinnamon or freshly cut grass (depending on the weather and my mood).
Of course I could tell you more...much more. I could go on. And on. And on. Much of my precious time has been spent dreaming about it. And one day it will be real. One day... But for now it must remain firmly planted in my head, for such an establishment would be wasted where I live. It will have to wait until I move to an equally twee town that can do it justice.
Until such a time as that arrives, I have decided to open up a tiny shop on Etsy. Not a sweet shop or a haberdashery obviously, but a shop to sell some of the things that I make. Things that I make simply because I can't not make things. All sorts of things: embroidery; jewellery; clothes; cards; cakes...ad infinitum. I can't seem to stop, my only explanation being that I feel restless if my hands and mind are idle.
But there is a limit to the number of, say, embroidered panels and necklaces that a girl and her friends can accommodate. Which is why I have opened the shop: so that I can go on making things in the hope that they will find happy homes. My aim is not to make a profit - I don't want it to be a business, I just want it to be something I can do because I enjoy it. And so I plan to make things to soothe my soul, and sell some of them so that I can cover my costs and keep on making.