27/05/2026
This is class
Mr Grumpy’s Monthly Market Mutterings™
May: Sunshine, Sweaty Gazebos, Rising Costs & Folk Still Asking Daft Questions
Well then… May’s gone more or less, and what a r**t mixed bag it’s been.
We’ve had sunshine, bank holidays, heat, busy towns, quieter spells, traders grafting their backsides off, customers out and about, and enough general nonsense to make a market organiser stand there muttering into a lukewarm brew, wondering if it’s too early to go home yet.
May reminded us, yet again, that markets are not just a few stalls plonked in a row. They’re about people. Proper people. Makers, bakers, artists, crafters, food producers, small businesses and customers who still understand that buying summat handmade means more than clicking “add to basket” while sat at home in pyjamas eating toast crumbs off their chest.
And thank God for that.
The weather finally decided to show up, didn’t it? Not gently, mind. Oh no. This is Britain. We don’t do sensible weather. We go from “bring a coat” to “I’m sweating in places I didn’t know had pores” in about 14 minutes.
Great for folk having a day out. Not quite so great when you’re stood under a gazebo, trying to look cheerful while your card machine overheats, your display table slowly cooks, and your flapjacks start looking like they’ve given up on life.
For traders, May has been another reminder that running a small business is not for the faint-hearted. Costs are still climbing, customers are watching their pennies, and everyone seems to be paying more for fuel, stock, ingredients, packaging, insurance, card fees, rent, electricity and probably blinking if somebody finds a way to charge for it.
It’s bloody hard out there.
But here’s the thing…
People are still coming.
They might be spending a bit more carefully. They might be choosing one lovely thing instead of three. They might have a good browse first, then wander round again pretending they’re “just looking” before coming back for the exact thing they wanted 40 minutes ago.
But they are still coming out. Still chatting. Still supporting local. Still buying bakes, gifts, produce, artwork, candles, dog treats, coffee, jewellery, plants, preserves, crafts and all the other brilliant stuff our traders bring along.
And that matters.
Because a market is not just shopping. It’s a day out. It’s a brew. It’s a mooch. It’s bumping into someone you’ve not seen for ages and pretending you didn’t avoid them in Tesco last week.
It’s dogs sniffing every table leg like they’re doing a full council inspection.
It’s kids pointing at cakes.
It’s husbands stood there holding bags, looking like they’ve been kidnapped.
It’s someone asking if a handmade item is handmade while the maker stands there with paint on their sleeve, flour in their hair or clay under their fingernails.
Honestly, some folk could watch a sheep knit a jumper and still ask if it came from Temu.
What Was Good In May?
The best bit about May was seeing people still wanting to support local.
They care about quality. They care about where things come from. They care about meeting the person who made it, baked it, grew it, painted it, stitched it, poured it, carved it or bottled it.
And that’s what markets do best.
You don’t get that in a supermarket aisle while a self-checkout screams “unexpected item in bagging area” like it’s just witnessed a crime.
At a market, you get a conversation. You get a story. You get something a bit different.
You get a trader who actually gives a damn.
And yes, you might pay a bit more than mass-produced rubbish from a warehouse 4,000 miles away, but that’s because it’s been made properly, by a real person, not spat out by a machine and wrapped in disappointment.
What Was Rubbish In May?
Costs.
Again.
Boring? Yes.
True? Also yes.
Everything costs more. Ingredients, materials, fuel, pitch fees, insurance, packaging, card charges, banners, gazebos, weights, stock, repairs — even a basic sandwich now feels like you need a small business loan and two witnesses.
Traders are trying to keep prices fair. Customers are trying to spend sensibly. Organisers are trying to keep markets running without charging daft money.
And somewhere in the middle, everyone’s just trying not to lose the will to live.
Then there’s the weather.
Too cold? Folk stay home.
Too wet? Folk stay home.
Too windy? Gazebos start auditioning for the RAF.
Too hot? Everyone melts and complains there’s no shade.
Perfect weather? Somebody still says, “It’s a bit bright, isn’t it?”
You can’t win. You just nod, smile, and quietly think, “Give over, you miserable sod.”
A Bit About The Markets
Each R.S.H market has its own feel, and that’s what makes them special.
Skipton gives you the canal, the High Str**t, proper independent shops, cafés, pubs and that lovely “make a day of it” feeling. It’s the sort of place where you go for a quick wander and somehow come back with cheese, bread, a candle, a plant and no idea where you parked.
Settle has that proper Dales charm. A market, a brew, a mooch round town and possibly a walk that someone describes as “not far” before nearly finishing you off halfway up a hill.
Haworth has character by the bucketful. Cobbles, history, shops, cafés, steep str**ts and that feeling you might bump into a Brontë, a ghost, or a bloke in a top hat depending what weekend it is.
Halifax / Dean Clough has shown us that sometimes you have to take stock, be honest, and look carefully at what works best for traders, venues and customers moving forward. It’s a fantastic venue with loads of character, history, independent businesses and proper Yorkshire mill charm, but markets have to work for everyone — traders, customers, venues and organisers alike.
Not every decision is easy, but sensible decisions are often better than stubborn ones. Sometimes you’ve got to stop, have a proper look at things, mutter into your brew for a bit, and work out what gives the market the best chance of coming back stronger rather than just ploughing on because “that’s what we said we’d do.”
White Rose is a different beast altogether. Big footfall, families, shoppers, browsers, people popping in for “just one thing” and leaving with brownies, candles, dog treats and a face that says, “Don’t tell the bank.”
Different places. Different people. Different atmospheres.
But the same idea behind them all — bring good traders, good products and good customers together, and let the day do its thing.
Mr Grumpy’s Moan Of The Month
This month’s moan is about people expecting small businesses to charge 1998 prices while dealing with 2026 costs.
You wouldn’t walk into a supermarket and start haggling with the self-checkout, would you?
“Any chance you can knock 50p off these sausages, love?”
No. You’d be escorted out by a teenager in a headset who’s already had enough of humanity by 10:15am.
But at markets, some folk still think it’s fine to ask a trader who has spent hours making something by hand whether they can “do it a bit cheaper”.
No, Karen. They bloody cannot.
That candle did not pour itself.
That cake did not bake itself.
That chutney did not stand over a pan for hours questioning its life choices.
That painting did not appear because someone sneezed near a canvas.
That sourdough did not rise by positive thinking and fairy dust.
Behind every stall is graft. Real graft. Early mornings, late nights, sore feet, packing, unpacking, labelling, pricing, loading cars, setting up in weather that can’t make its bloody mind up, and then standing there smiling while someone asks, “Did you make all this yourself?”
No, mate. The elves did it.
Support local properly. Pay the price. Say thank you. And if you can’t afford it this time, that’s absolutely fine — genuinely. But don’t insult the person who made it by trying to knock them down like you’re on a car boot sale in 2003.
Looking Ahead To June
So, May has been hot, costly, busy in places, quieter in others, and full of the usual market madness.
But it’s also shown us that markets still matter.
People still want proper days out. They still want handmade. They still want local. They still want to meet the people behind the products.
And thank goodness, because if the world becomes nothing but online shopping, self-checkouts and coffee that costs more than a mortgage payment, we’re all knackered.
So as we head into June, keep supporting the traders. Keep visiting the towns. Keep sharing posts. Keep telling your friends. Keep choosing local where you can.
Every purchase helps.
Every share helps.
Every kind word helps.
And every customer who comes back and says, “I bought from you last time and loved it,” gives a trader a proper boost.
So here’s to May.
A bit sweaty. A bit expensive. A bit daft.
But still full of good people doing good things.
Now then June… behave yourself, you awkward little bu**er.
Mr Grumpy
