Raking over the coals ( and anything else you can find)

Yesterday:

• fine weather, supposedly sufficient energy to accomplish proposed task
  
• everything ready for blast off
  
• finally The Fates, the weather and Sodding Condition will allow us to offload all our old tat on to various poor suckers in exchange for scheckels

....sorry, I mean the general populace of Mid Suffolk will be able to avail themselves of the rare opportunity to purchase some fine examples of literature, Fine Arts,objects d'arts and haute couture which, hitherto, have adorned and delighted the Cusp Household i.e. we're doing a Boot Sale.

Now, Cusp is not unknown to visit Boot Sales when the weather is fine and curiosity gets the better of lack of real vim. However, this is usually in the role of consumer and so tis a rare day when I can bring myself to get up early, herd children, dog, table, 'float' ( a professional Booter's term for any old loose change that's hanging around) and partner in to the car and make the 6 mile journey to a field where all manner of hoi polloi buy and sell, trade and haggle under the misguided illusion that they are exchanging gems of history or unspoken treasure that appear to be worthless and yet are surely priceless.

If not obvious tat then everything else at a Boot Sale is 'very old', 'rare', 'a bargin'.

I fall under the spell myself. Who doesn't ? In my case I usually fall for the obviously totally broken and worthless but that which has a certain cache and thus bewitches with its charm.

Last time I came home with 6 tarnished brass buttons and a very small china doll with one arm and one leg wearing an expression that looked as though she had just farted.

Yesterday of course was different:we were on the offensive and loaded with items so obviously glorious that we were going to return home with nothing more than empty boxes and a wad of cash.

What I like and can never get over is the range of people Boot Sales attract.

Yesterday saw young and old, black, white, brown, Chinese, Polish, Czech, French, gay, straight, posh, chav, bright, dim, focused, loony, elegant, slovenly etc. etc. There was a woman dressed in black as if for dressage, a woman who had obviously not always been so, a lovely couple who were as camp as a row of tents (and bought something), a sweet Polish family with a little girl who got the better of me so I found myself letting a toy go for £3 when it was easily worth £5.

There was a grown man who haggled over jewellery like a child:

'You gave that other man a discount for that little car. Why won't you give me one
?......'

'Because you're buying jewellery and there's nothing the matter with it and it's
worth a bit. That little truck was well used and had no doors.'

'Can I have this ring for 75p then ? I haven't got anymore '

'Sorry, no'

'How about a £1 then'...says the same man, withdrawing a magical wad of tenners from a grimey pocket. The same man who didn't have anymore to give me than 75p two moments ago

All human life was there and all strolling past our wares. Of course we had a novel trick and attraction because we stuck our dear old dog in the back of the car (estate) on his blanket with his chew and bowl of tea (one sugar) and once 'They' approached to stroke and coo (because everyone does) we'd got 'em in our clutches.

I love the mix of odd sights and sounds. Love the banter and chat. It brings out all my old people skills and the way I can talk to almost anyone --- like I used to at work, when I was a real person; before I was shut in my kennel and offered tidbits by kindly hands like the dog.

The one thing that does get to me, however, is the meanness of some people and the sight of people raking through our old belongings. One woman picked up a brand new child's T shirt that was hand dyed and decorated:

'How much ?'

'75p ? It's new, never been worn'

'I'll give you 20' --- with a sneer

'Sorry' and she throws it down as if it's a rag.

Some items that stroll away with a new owner matter not a jot to me but there are others that are painful to watch as they leave in another's hand: a brooch that was my mother's; a book that my daughter loved (but we can't keep everything, so it's one that was no.6 in her personal charts and we've kept no.'s 1 &2 in the loft)



Still, all in all it was a good day. The dog was patted and petted to within an inch of his doggy life, the children each made about £7 on their stalls ( separate tables to avoid squabbles) and we made £35 profit after we had paid for our pitch ....and we have more space under the stairs.



And, oh yes, I did have a little wander and I did find another 'treasure.'



It's a cardboard box full of bits of old camera. I cannot identify what type of camera, its age or whether the various bits and pieces go together but it cost me £3 (down form £4) and I love it.



Quick...make more room under the stairs.