One evening I was struck by a surprising sight in our kitchen: our dining table was covered with small plastic boxes full of glimmering beads and pieces. “I’m making jewels for our Christmas fair”, greeted Antonia from the other end of the table. She held a leather pendant in her hand, threading multi-colored bead rows into the string and tying them with small knots.
I was hypnotized: hundreds of beads –different forms and sizes– glittering and glimmering in the shades of the rainbow. Delighted, I twiddled them, sunk my fingers into the heap of beads, and scrutinized them against the light. “If you are interested, you should go and see this bead shop in Covent Garden. It’s just amazing”, Antonia continued.
The Bead Shop was easy to find. Everyone around the Covent Garden market seemed to know about it. The furnishing of the store consisted mainly of dark wooden frames, which formed hundreds of small containers for different kinds of beads. The buying goes just like in a candy shop: you take a big spoon, plastic bags and a basket – and off you go ladling! "Two of those red ones and five green ones, a spoonful of the diamond shaped grey beads, and maybe also yellow, brown and amber… four pairs of those decorative Chinese beads, a couple of mixed discount bags… oh yes and some of the basic crystals, and of course I would need a package of wire stumps and some leather string… "
By the time I made it to the cash queue, I had nineteen small plastic bags in my basket.
– "It’s fourty-five pounds, Madam”, said the shop girl.
In Finnish we have an expression of “nappikauppaa” (trading buttons) for describing a small, not very profitable business. Bead business is definitely not nappikauppaa.
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