Page 6 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

He would spend a couple of days in Foxmore, then he’d be off to Pwllheli or Abersoch in the hope of finding something worth writing about. Not only did he write articles for various publications, he also had a blog,Planet B, which provided the majority of funding for his lifestyle. The problem was, its success and popularity depended on him delivering fresh content every few days, which sometimes kept him awake at night.

When he tuned back into the conversation between Harriet and the woman called Pen (who, he suddenly twigged, was the cafe’s owner – Pen, akaPen’s Pantry), the conversation had moved on.

‘And now Sara is telling me that she needs a new outfit for this party,’ Harriet was saying. ‘She’s already got a wardrobe full of clothes she doesn’t wear. I’m getting sick of it – they don’t appreciate what they’ve got, yet they want more. I’m fed up with buying stuff.’

‘Then don’t,’ Owen heard himself say.

There was silence for a second as the two women stared at him.

If he’d had any sense, he would have left it there, but this was a subject close to his heart. He had spent the biggest part of his adult life trying to persuade people that there was already enough stuff in the world; that society’s wanton desire to have the latest, the newest, the biggest, or the best, might be driving the economy forward but it was also driving the planet to destruction.

‘Excuse me?’ Harriet’s expression reflected her icy tone.

Oh well, he had nothing to lose… ‘I said, don’t do it. Don’t keep buying things.’

Harriet was looking at him as though he had two heads. It didn’t faze him – he often evoked that very same expression in people.

‘What am I supposed to do when my casserole dish breaks?’ she demanded. Glancing at Pen, she said, ‘Bobby knocked it off the counter and it smashed to smithereens!’ She turned to Owen again and raised her eyebrows.

‘Buy a second-hand one,’ he suggested.

Harriet wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know where it’s been.’

‘I would assume you’d give it a good wash before you used it,’ Owen replied mildly.

‘OK, say I do that—’ she didn’t sound as though she would ‘—it wouldn’t stop my daughter from demanding something new to wear to this party. And what are you playing at, listening to other people’s conversations?’

‘I didn’t mean to. You weren’t exactly quiet.’

‘I wasn’t shouting from the other side of the room, either.’

‘You’ve got to lead by example,’ Owen ploughed on.

‘Pardon?’

‘When you buy things. Don’t buy anything you don’t need, don’t buy something new just because you’re fed up with what you’ve got, and when you do have to buy something, try to buy it second-hand.’

‘Yeah, right. My children aresonot going to go for that!’ She rolled her eyes at the other woman.

To Owen’s surprise, Pen said, ‘It’s a good idea.’

Harriet frowned. It made her look like a cross kitten. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘Yours. If you can’t persuade Sara to wear something she’s already got, then buy second-hand. She gets something new without the “new” price tag.’

Owen could see Harriet thinking. The price-tag comment seemed to have hit home.

‘I suppose I could check out eBay or Vinted.’

‘Or Aled Harris holds a boot sale on his field every Saturday,’ Pen said. ‘I haven’t been, but I hear it’s well attended.’

‘Boot sales are brilliant,’ Owen said enthusiastically. ‘Better than online second-hand shops because you don’t have to pay postage… You might also pick up a casserole dish,’ he added.

Harriet’s expression gave nothing away. ‘I might.’

He was losing her. She really wasn’t keen on second-hand cooking utensils, was she? Typical. Never mind saving the planet – which should be everyone’s main concern – she wasn’t even prepared to consider the savings to her own pocket.

‘Do you ever buy anything new?’ she asked.

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