International Food Market...

I'm sat here this afternoon with a cigarette in my hand, laptop sat (rather appropriately) on my lap and a very large, very delicious-looking plastic container sat at my side. It's contents? Around ten whole pounds worth of anchovy and jalapeno stuffed ripe, fresh olives.

Bought yesterday at the first of four of this years Aberdeen International Food Market along with a large bag of excellent (but pricey) pastries, superb (but costly) chocolate coverded raisins, lukewarm (but expensive) paella and a small, lowly potted plant bought for my mum which looks to by clinging desperately to life by it's brown, withered tendrils... But this is not a rant about these over-priced treats. Instead it is to be a rant about the character who sold me the plant.

He may have been French. He certainly had an accent, but where he was actually from I have no idea. What I am certain about is that he was rather creepy, and somewhat desperate to make an almost certain sale. As money was transferred, as the sale was being made and as it was apparent that there was no need for awkward conversation or salesmanship I was asked:

"Why, sir? Why you do this to your face?"

Confused for a second I realised that he was talking about the lipring in my face. Something that has been there for so long that I always forget it's there until it is brought up in conversation.

"Surley sore, no?"

"Eh, no. Not anymore.."

"But why spoil your face?" he continued, starting to get a little weird.

"I, eh, it's so I can tie my face to trucks and pull them down the street."

Now this is obviously not true (although it has been tried and tested. My personal best pulling a desk chair across a room if you're interested) but I thought that this obvious banter may provake a laugh or chuckle long enough for my to escape but, unfortunately he continued unphased with the horrific, and now immortal line:

"Please. Please take off your sunglasses. Please?"

Now feeling more than a little uncomfortable, but with a small collection of waiting customers now more concerned with this man reaction to my peircing I took them off.

"Oh now!" he exclaimed. "See! So pretty!" He clasped his hands to his face to emphasise and I reaplaced my glasses, grabbed my plant and chage and left. Quickly. Feeling not flattered, but a little used.

International Food Market - 4 star.

French-flower sellers who are not only closet homosexuals, but not afraid to flaunt it - 0 stars.