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First stall I saw was selling socks, but not normal socks – these were socks that looked like they’d seen the Crimean War. I asked the fella behind the counter if they were new, and he said, “New to you.” Fair enough.
Then there’s a bakery. Lovely bread, crusty like a pensioner’s elbow. I bought a pasty the size of a newborn ferret, and I ate it while wandering round looking for a man who could sharpen scissors. Didn’t find him, but I did find a lady selling chutney that smelt like a wizard’s pocket.
The hall itself is magnificent – proper Victorian bones, a bit draughty, like it might whisper riddles to you if you stayed after closing. I half expected a ghost in a top hat to ask me if I wanted two pounds of kippers and a kiss.
Ulverston Market Hall isn’t just a place to shop. It’s a place where you can buy three jars of jam, a VHS copy of Patriot Games, and a cabbage that looks like Sean Bean – all under one roof. That’s value.
I left with a bag full of mystery meat, a candle shaped like a dolphin, and a vague sense I’d been knighted by the town itself.
9 out of 10 – would return, but only if I can bring my own ferret.