My first couple of tries aren’t very successful, mainly because when actually faced with a human to talk to, I can’t think of anything to say, so instead I have to style out my half-open mouth with an awkward smile. At this rate, I will definitely fail.

Looking around whilst continuing my slow pacing and arm-swinging, I spot my next prey. She’s displaying homemade scented candles diagonally opposite me, has a friendly-looking face and is on crutches, so it’s unlikely that she’ll be able to run away from my advances.

When I finally gather enough courage to head over, I decide to start simply.

‘Hello! Hi! Konnichiwa!’ Where did the Japanese come from? ‘How are you? I thought I’d pop over and introduce myself. I’m Bea –’ I reach out to shake her hand, hoping this is something people still do – ‘and that over there –’ I point to my stall – ‘is my stall.’

She smiles at me, which I think is a good sign. Her face is even more friendly up close.

‘Hi, Bea. I’m Francesca. It’s lovely to meet you. I was watching you set up.’ Oh dear. ‘I love your succulent. I keep trying to find one like it but I can never seem to see the purply ones for sale.’ Tell me about it. ‘You’re selling cards, right? I love a good card.’

‘Me too! Which is lucky, I guess. It would be hard to sell something you don’t like. Like cats. I could never sell cats.’

We talk for a while longer, but then more people start to appear, so I meander back over to my stall, trying not to look too eager whenever someone comes near.

Luckily, when Peter makes his appearance (coffee in hand), there are real-life people talking to me and laughing at some of my cards.

He waits for them to leave before coming over. ‘How’s it going? It looks like it’s going well.’ He gives me a hug and hands over the java juice.

‘Yeah, it’s going good. It was a bit rocky to start with, quite quiet, but I think it’s getting busier. Although I haven’t actually sold any cards yet.’

‘Well, it’s still quite early. And even if you don’t sell a single card, you gotta try these things, right?’

‘I guess.’ I’m proud of myself for coming. It would have been very easy to cancel, or not even try to come in the first place. Two very Bea moves.

‘You must be hungry. By the lack of food stains down your top I would guess that you haven’t eaten—’

‘I don’t always spill food down myself.’ Although we both know my track record isn’t great.

‘Go get food. I’ll man the fort.’ At this he does some kind of soldier-like salute and I can’t help but laugh. I don’t think he meant it to be funny but I find it endearing.

I waddle off, swinging by my new friend’s stall, offering to pick something up for her.