Trust Ol' Wil To Sort It

Got this one from (some) Nob in Shireton. (Heh. Sorry, Nob, ol' man.)

Dear Mr Wagstaff,

My mum says I have to decide what to do with my life. I left school after OWLs--I'm not one for exams, y'know--and I've been back at home ever since. For a while, I was sweeping up at the grocer's overnight, but mum said there wasn't any room for advancement in that. And then I was a helper for a really old witch in my village, only she died, and the family said I'd made off with a load of her things. That was a bit of a stink, so I'm having trouble finding anyone who'll hire me now. What should I do?

Sounds to me as if yer well-qualified for life as a pedlar, Nob. Yer flexible with yer hours, good wiv yer hands, and ready to shake the dust o that village off yer boots. Maybe yeh've even got some start up wares, eh? (Course if yeh have, yeh might want to keep that to yerself, an yeh see what I'm sayin.)