ARTICLE - The Village, The Town & The Day Job

In the sleepy village of Upper Sheringham, not a lot of note happens. All of which I'm perfectly fine with. That's why I live there in a rented terrace house with my husband. Generally referred to as 'the boys'. Readily taking advantage of the glorious Humphrey Repton designed landscape of Sheringham Park. Always to hand, literally five minutes walk around the corner from our home.

Though it has the look of an 18th century estate village, Upper Sheringham is of a far earlier origin. It used to be a thriving fisherman's village, and before that a Viking hamlet some way in from the coast and hence better sheltered. But over recent decades its lost most of its village accoutrements, the pub, its corner shop. It still has an active church and village hall, though the spectacular vicarage is now a posh hotel. It is really a dormitory village to its sister seaside resort just a mile down the road.

The development of tourism in North Norfolk in the nineteenth century led to the fishing hamlet of Lower Sheringham shedding its prefix. Transforming itself into Sheringham, the much larger prosperous seaside town. In this town, just off the main road, there is a small shopping mall called The Courtyard. 

Here is where David and I run Cottonwood Home, our shop. Its small, as are all the units in the mall.  The low overheads mean its an excellent starting point for any business. Its certainly been good for us. Though we do wonder if its small size will eventually limit its potential.

We sell handmade homeware and gifts, the majority of which we make ourselves. The rest we buy directly from an ever changing roster of craft makers. Our aim is to buy from Norfolk or East Anglia makers, but if not locally then from the UK. The general style and aesthetic of Cottonwood Home is mid 20th Century modern. Everything we buy from craft makers has, at the very least, to be in sympathy with that.

A tourist town is a strange retail beast. Bustling in the Summer season, semi hibernating the rest of the year. At the beginning of June 2022 we completed our third year since opening. Hurrah! We have done extremely well to thrive, let alone survive, those trio of years, of what have been extremely testing economic circumstances. Not without an ongoing level of concern and stress though.  Every shop in Sheringham survives because of the Summer trade, and, if they are open at all,  just about cover expenses off season. Despite our optimism that our seasonal pattern might be different, the prevailing on and off season applies to our business too. Though we are always looking for other ways to boost  off season sales.

We make a lot of our items whilst in the shop. Lampshades, make up bags, door stops, key rings, hand bound jotters and notebooks, etc. Jnanasalin has made over a thousand face masks during the length of the pandemic, it was one of our most in demand lines. People do enjoy seeing us making the stuff we sell, it more effectively demonstrates our ethos than any mission statement. Also, when it is quiet, and boy can it be quiet, its good to have something else to focus on other than the evident lack of custom that day. When it's an obvious 'beach day' or stormy weather has blown in, its easier to relax with. The harder days are when there appears to be no discernible reason at all for the descent of the deathly hush.

This is an aspect of seaside retailing we hadn't anticipated would be so emotionally challenging. Its understandable that we search for explanations, to wonder what on earth is going on. But such speculations always prove to be a complete waste of effort, you end up in a maze of possibilities still without any coherent pattern emerging.  Like Norfolk beach shingle, things shift about all the time. This is part and parcel of the shopping dynamic here. The conditions affecting it are just so complex and multifarious they are really beyond fathoming. If you try and work it out you'll just tie yourself up in ever tighter emotional knots. It is whatever it is.

I part prep items before I take them in to finish off behind the counter in the shop. I make the wooden bases for clocks, mirrors, or sand back upcycled furniture in my petite workshop in our back garden in Upper Sheringham. I call it a workshop, but really its a converted coal shed. It has no natural light and no heating to speak of, so I hardly go in there in the winter months. Then I use a desk in our craft room in the house. Particularly if I'm doing paint or varnish finishes where the atmosphere inherent to a dusty workshop is not helpful. Tools and materials, however, are never where I want them to be. If I'm in the workshop, what I need will be in the craft room, or vice versa. So there is often a lot of, sometimes semi- frustrated, tooing and froing.

Like any job, running a shop or making handcrafted items, it has its joyful and its duller more routine aspects. Its always a pleasure to interact with our customers, who are generally nice sociable folk. Its also enjoyable when someone just gets what our shop is about. I find it artistically satisfying working out how to make and complete a new item. Its a pleasure if this then sells to someone who appreciates and loves it too.

When you are making an item for the umpteenth time, artistic satisfaction has long gone. The creativity lies in the refining of the production process, to improve the overall finish or speed in the making of it. Its also in continuing to make them to the best of your ability. Learning how you stay emotionally engaged with that all too familiar repetitive process, to not disengage or go into autopilot. Yet with the best will in the world even hand making things can have its tedious moments. Most days I do feel lucky to be able to make a living from what I do. Though as with any day job, its important to be able to put it down, walk away, and do something entirely different for a while. Like take a walk in Sheringham Park.