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Stories from a small shop - Hairdressers and Haribos

Malton mindfulness people stories

Isn’t it odd how an apparently random set of events can suddenly weave together to formulate an idea?  Sitting in the bath this morning, engaging in an activity my mum calls “wool gathering” (staring into the middle distance allowing random thoughts to lead where they may) – I was struck by the thought that what I love about having a shop is the ‘peopleness’ of every day.  You just never know who is going to come in, what they’ll make of the shop and more than anything, what stories they will impart.  And they do.  Often.  I love to talk to people, and more than that even, I love to hear what they have to say. 

So to this week’s random event. A few days ago, I was delighted by a visit to the shop from my hat-making, aura-reading, fabulously bonkers ex-hairdresser who dyed my hair copper the day I found out I had to wear glasses all the time.  Her assessment of the shop was very positive – a great sense of peace and calm, but could maybe do with a sweep through with burning rosemary, sage and frankincense to cleanse its spirit.  She had no doubt that it would succeed (I do so hope she’s right) but when I made vague mutterings about lack of customers recently, she reminded me that for the sake of my own spirit, I should start ‘writing my pages again’. 

Explanation: Some time ago when I found myself in an extended black dog moment, she suggested that I read “The Artist’s Way”, what you might call a self-help journal, promoting mindfulness and a large degree of introspection and self-analysis.  At the time I had nodded and smiled and said “I’ll give it a go” as I tend to do at moments of scepticism, but for once, I actually did read it, and unbelievably, it really did seem to help.  Of course, as with all my various fads, as soon as I started to feel better, I stopped writing the pages and now have no idea where they are. [I hope to God they don’t turn up unexpectedly – they really were for my eyes only]. But this led me to thinking that, so my online customers don't have to miss out on the fabulous comings and goings of the shop, I should write them down on my blog. So that's what I'm going to do.

Hairdresser left soon after her assessment, only to return an hour later with a bag of Haribos which she delivered and immediately left again.  I love that woman – and even though I’m supposed to be off sugar, I ate the Haribos.


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  • FIona on

    Absolute genius!!!!

  • Yvonne on

    Love it … keep it up ♥️

  • katy on

    Can’t wait for the next story

  • Christine on

    … but I don’t know why that comment has repeated itself!

  • Christine on

    Yay – keep writing! Cxxx


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