My first attempt at selling my book Nicely Out of Tune directly to the public was at Penclawdd Community Centre. I was warmly welcomed in swift succession by the other stall holders and my nervousness at being there quickly dissipated.
A regular trickle rather than a rush of shoppers popped into the centre - some to make a number of purchases, others just to partake of the refreshments for sale and to catch up with friends and neighbours. The quality and range of the products offered for sale was outstanding with eye-catching  displays set out around the large hall. 
The local butcher, Mr. Tucker, presented an array of fresh meat including Gower saltmarsh lamb and also vegetables and eggs. Mouth-watering preserves gleamed like jewels on Penny's table while the  beauty of the wood-turned items tucked in a corner at the top end of the hall caught your breath.
Items from Forest Fern & Moss were artfully arranged on the table adjacent to mine, as seen in the  above righthand photograph. I've already earmarked the delicately scented botanical wax melts and  attractive ceramic burners as future gifts for friends and family. 
Other notable displays were One of 1 Designs and Uniquely Stitched  (see photograph below) with an array of meticulously crafted items on offer!

Equally attractive were the crocheted garments and jewellery for sale at the opposite end of the hall. Such was the lure of the goods for sale, I was quite peeved to have to stay put to market my own wares. Although that said, I was thrilled to sell all of my Welsh cakes, a jar of my husband's bees honey and two books! All in all quite a successful morning.

It all began on a glorious October afternoon with a man standing on our chimney stack... not just any man, only my seventy-three year old other half! The previous week, when it was evident that we needed to replace the television aerial, I had tentatively suggested to my husband that we should, for the first time in forty years, engage someone to do the job. To my amazement, he agreed, which worried me a little as he's not a man to pay another to carry out work that he feels capable of doing himself. He is getting old, I thought, a little sadly.
A few days later a man of a mere two score years, and from the safety of the yard, offered a verbal estimate for the proposed work, for which my husband thanked him. However, the following weekend with the help of our younger son, my husband duly removed the aerial and replaced it with an indoor version which resides in the more safely accessed attic.

Two days after the carnage of Storm Bert we were greeted by a goat, our neighbour's goat to be precise. With the animal returned to its field we were able to get on with preparing for the scaffolders who arrived later that morning. Meanwhile the boomerang goat had returned! 

My husband removed the goat yet again, his temper shortening apace with the goat's lead. Two days later our house was completely encompassed by an intricate cage of scaffolding and, the curious goat was back! Drastic measures were evidently necessary to keep our property goat-free, and not just for the sake of our garden plants but the goat itself... the roofers were on their way!
My husband duly reinforced our boundary fence which put paid to further goat incursion and work on the removal and replacement of the old roof began in earnest. Unbelievably, the whole job was completed during the relatively dry spell of weather between storms Bert and Darragh!

I was slightly emotional when the old slate tiles, batten and felt were taken away in a skip, as forty years earlier my husband had actually used those materials to create our first replacement roof. There isn't much he won't try! Although we both agreed that the new roof was far superior, if more costly. And on closer inspection the family were of the same opinion!

Mumbles is a picturesque seaside village on the western edge of Swansea Bay. With its pier, lighthouse, lifeboat station, shops and cafes, Mumbles is a year-round people-magnet. The ideal location from which to launch my novel Nicely Out of Tune, I reasoned, swiftly booking the village’s Ostreme Centre for the event. I put together what I thought was an eye-catching poster, ordered equally attractive bookmarks, researched and purchased public liability insurance and completed a health and safety form.

The posters were displayed outside the hall, at the village library, on the Mumbles Community Council Facebook page and last, but not least, on the noticeboard in the female section of the public toilet block on the seafront.

Next, I considered what to provide by way of the advertised ‘light refreshments’ and devised a cooking schedule for the run up to the event date. I made a tablecloth from fabric that matched the main colour of my book cover and also managed to unearth a waxed cloth for the food table that complemented the colour scheme of the book display. Surely, I had all bases covered?

Then my husband wisely suggested that we purchase a contactless/chip and pin device so as to maximise possible book sales. Our younger son, a wiz at all things IT-related, obligingly set up the newly acquired, tiny piece of kit.

Everything was going so well that I began to feel quite smug to the point of actually looking forward to the event. I had high hopes of a plethora of passing shoppers popping into the capacious hall to partake of the advertised refreshments, and possibly to purchase a book or two. The best laid plans of mice, men and over-ambitious authors… All was scuppered by a storm named Bert.

The normally busy cycle path that borders the wide sweep of Swansea Bay was as devoid of walkers, joggers and cyclists as Mumbles Road was of traffic. Slate grey frothy waves pounded the recently re-enforced seawall as a straggly squadron of gulls struggled to remain airborne. Low thick cloud obscured the usually uplifting view from the road of the pier and lighthouse island at the far end of the village.

Mumbles was bleak, almost deserted, with few prepared to brave its streets in the torrential rain and gusting wind. Shop awnings flapped and slapped, bushes and trees bent and bowed as strings of jolly Christmas lights swung like skipping ropes in the wintry onslaught.

Huddled into our coats, my husband, son and I offloaded the car, and began to set up the tables in the cold, empty and echoey hall. Our expectations were rock bottom at that point despite the rather good background music - a hand-picked selection from Lindisfarne, Eagles, David Bowie and Steely Dan. Then our spirits fleetingly rose on the sudden appearance of two ladies only to discover that one was in search of a misplaced pair of spectacles and the other in need of a toilet!

What else could we expect of such a day but disappointment? Rather than endure three chilly hours at the hall, we discussed the possibility of an early finish when a sudden commotion at the inner door to the hall caught our attention… Our fantastic family and friends had begun to arrive!

We didn’t close early; the sausage rolls, crisps, Welsh cakes and biscuits were not wasted; hot and cold drinks were consumed and the afternoon sped by as everyone chatted and laughed and exchanged long forgotten anecdotes and stories. Even the chalkboards, and playthings were of use when my two-year-old great nephew arrived. With great gusto, he scribbled and ate, ran and hid, darted and danced, his laughter as delightful as his four-month-old sister’s gurgles and grins.

My book launch was not the event I’d carefully planned and catered for. No, it was something quite different… A heart warming show of love and support that bettered anything I had envisaged! I even sold a few books.
Have you experienced anything similar that you would like to share? If so, I’d be happy to hear from you!