All the fun of the fair

Red gingham ribbons and twinkling fairy lights, handmade soaps and Christmas decorations, tweed and cashmere, charming English cottage homeware, more vintage knick-knacks than you could shake a stick at, beautiful fabrics, the smell of orange and cinnamon in the air ... I could go on and on.

The Country Living Christmas Fair was wonderful. Even if the crowds were overwhelming.

I was expecting the venue to be packed but nothing prepared me for this - it was even more crowded than last year. Still, I managed to get round to almost every stall and make some lovely purchases. (And a slightly bizarre one - only at the Country Living Christmas Fair would I buy a knitted alpaca hat that resembles a tea cosy).

The frenzy was made a little more bearable by the nice, slow start to my day. An extremely tiring week worsened by frequent travel delays meant I stubbornly refused to set foot on a tube this weekend :) So I took the overground to Hackney Downs and a bus to Angel.

I've found that changing plans (in the I-refuse-to-be-a-control-freak sense, not the broken promises sense) and choosing to slow down often leads to little surprises. In this case, I realised that a bakery famed for its seasonal-produce cupcakes that I'd been meaning to visit for a while was just a few minutes' walk from Hackney Downs train station. I never stop in this area and had wondered how, if ever, I would make it to Violet - a trip for the sake of it seemed a little too frivolous, even for a cake-monster like me.

And then I chose to go slow.

At first it rattled me. "The fair starts at 9.30. I'm already headed for a 10am arrival. Should I really get there at 11? Won't it be crowded?" I decided to let go. And I didn't regret it. Not even later, as I gingerly squeezed past angry women laden with shopping bags.

I've been to bakeries hidden away from the high street before. There's the Buttercup Cake Shop, quietly tucked away in a leafy Kensington mews. But Violet took me by surprise.

It stands alone, opposite some council flats, in the most ordinary of places. A pretty oasis in the middle of bricks and concrete. No expensive houses and high-end boutiques like Buttercup. No high-street shops like Hummingbird and myriad of other bakeries and cupcakeries. And the exterior is very unassuming - plain cream walls with Violet painted down the side in mint-green and a door to match. The cuteness of it all is only apparent when you peek inside and witness the hubbub of cozy baked activity.

Inside, it was tiny and smelled heavenly. Immediately opposite me was a counter of goodies and to the left a lady was rolling dough, preparing the day's treats. I stood at the counter for the longest time, trying to decide between quince and damson before asking the owner for help. Damson it was.

She asked if it was for here or for takeaway. Takeaway, I immediately replied. As I watched her box up the cupcake, it dawned on me. What was the point of coming all the way here only to take my cake away in a plain white box and hurriedly scoff it on the bus? Today I was going slow. The fair could wait.

I headed upstairs with my cupcake and chose a spot by the window. The glass was covered in condensation and outside it was cold and grey. But there on the windowsill, displaying its prettiness quietly but determinedly, was a little rose floating in a teacup. A touch of sunshine against the drab backdrop.

Maybe I'm over-romanticising things a bit but, for me, it (along with the bakery itself) was a stark reminder that it always possible to bring beauty to our surroundings, whatever they may look like. And the best beauty is always quiet - beauty that is courageous and uncompromising, but humble. That doesn't draw attention to itself.

So there I sat, surrounded by quiet beauty on a rainy Saturday, enjoying my damson cupcake one bite at a time (it was *delicious*). Today was a day for going slow; for savouring, for looking around and looking upwards; for giving thanks for simple things.

When I finally left, I walked to the bus-stop slowly. Stopped to take things in. To photograph a lovely lilac house with flowers in the windows.

By the time I entered the craziness of the fair, I was still on 'slow mode'. The frantic atmosphere was still overwhelming. But it was just that little bit more bearable.

My favourite stall by far was The English Stamp Company, manned by a kindly Scottish gentleman with white hair and twinkly eyes who so clearly revelled in his rubber stamps and inks.

He provided demonstration after demonstration, with never-waning enthusiasm, to oohs and aahs - and made the simplicity of dabbing a stamp with ink and pressing it onto paper seem the most delightful thing in the world. What I loved most was the little stories he gently told to describe the cards he had prepared in advance. Two reindeers were in love. The little partridge in the tree was singing.

Needless to say, I walked away with two stamps (a patridge in a pear tree and a snowflake) and an array of inks and glitters to make my own Christmas cards. I cannot wait to start designing them. One of the glitters has to be held over a toaster, once applied, to give the embossed effect it promises - and the childlike excitement of this is almost too much. You should have heard people exclaim when he demonstrated it - I wasn't surprised one iota that my pot came from a fresh batch.

The usual suspects were there - East of India, with their gorgeous ribbons and labels (I stocked up for the Christmas cookie bundles I'm baking); The Old Potting Shed, with its pretty cottage goods (I confess I managed to convince myself that a lovely vintage apron was just was I needed to encourage me on said baking venture) and Beyond Fabrics, which I somehow left with only a make-your-own-tote-bag kit to sew a project bag for summer knitting that can go in my bicycle basket once I'm road safe.

I also found a little yellow bird brooch at the acorn & will stand to match the red one I already own, a cashmere tartan scarf reduced by 75% because it's no longer "in season" (I'm sure you'll forgive me if I admit this doesn't bother me!) some lovely citrus and cinnamon Christmas "smellies" to go on our tree and above the fireplace ... and lots of secret goodies for loved ones.

After struggling home with the bags, I realised that I hadn't eaten anything since that cupcake! Shopping does that :) So, in the spirit of things, I decided to indulge a bit more and order from Dominos.

And did I mention that, for me, Christmas begins with the fair? (I'm sure I'm not the only one who starts Christmas festivities a little prematurely ... ) That means I got to bring my John Rutter Christmas Album out of hiding at long last to accompany the chomping :)

It was a good day.