The Last Car Boot Sale

Car Boot Sales!

I have promised Iron Man that this really is the last one.  It’s going to have to be as no loft means no hoarding.

This one has had to be hardcore though.  Alarm set for 3.45, leave by 4.30.  Never before have we been so committed.  The Kid had a sleepover and the attention seeking rabbit was left with enough supplies to see her through the morning.

There is no room for the 7.00 sellers these days.

You end up in the cow-shed and go home with everything you came with and 25p.

That’s enough to rock any marriage.

So here we are at Dunton in Essex and for the first time in weeks, I’m cold.  So cold that I’m tempted to start dressing myself in the very items I am selling.

This will probably be the closest I will get to a modelling career in brown leather boots and a Pom Pom scarf.

In fact, I’m glad to see it’s not just me that’s cold because there are people here shopping in their fleecy pyjamas.

I often wonder what possesses people to get up at such an ungodly hour to buy other people’s toot but wild horses couldn’t keep them away.  Just as well really.

We are rather departmental this time around and Iron Man could easily be cast as Mr Selfridge as he stands over the merchandise negotiating with purchasers that are interested in the giant inflatable champagne bottles.

As I sit in the car, I feel proud that he has stuck to his guns and held out for 50p per bottle. Especially after the effort of blowing them both up.

This is despite being offered 50p for two.

Sale agreed!  Inflatables Are Us!

Our Christmas section has been unveiled and as I have said before, it would rival Harrods.

The 3 sided tree is out in all its glory.  No shift so far.  People keep wanting to buy all three at a heavily discounted price.

I’ve had to impose a limit of one per customer.

No one needs 3 trees.

I can vouch for that because they have been sat in the loft for years.  I am doing these people a favour in not taking their money.

And as for the three sided tree – well, rooms will always have corners.

There will always be a need.

Trade is picking up slowly, very slowly.  As I sit in the car nursing my chilblains,  I can hear Iron Man engaging with more customers.  I think he may have cracked a joke too.  Time to investigate and the sun is out.

I am seriously wondering to myself though whether the days of the car boot are over.  It’s much quieter than it used to be.  Maybe we have chosen a good time to retire and bail out.

It has been a very long slog.

Lots of bartering and haggling and fun.

And lots of nice people stopping by.

Many satisfied customers.

And some unsatisfied.

I am never going to let you have something for £2 if I’ve asked for £10.  This is not the way to successfully negotiate a deal.

The charity shop will always win this one.

I will also never fail to be amazed at the ability of women with Size 7 feet that try and squeeze them into a size 5 and then want a discount because they are the wrong size.  Such are the antics of these places.   You can never have enough shoes of the wrong size at times like this.

It is these things that make the whole thing worthwhile when you have stood on your feet for 8 hours.

Of course we forgot the chairs.  And of course among the 22,000 stalls, we were unable to find a pair.  This is known as Sod’s Law.

The temperature warmed up nicely over the course of the morning and as we queue to leave at 1245 after 8 hours trading, I am a little charred.

In the boot of the car is more or less what we came with.  Including the trees!!

We have made £130 in sales which is not too be sniffed at but we could probably have both done an 8 hour stint in Poundland for more.

And with the car as full as when we arrived, we go home via St Francis Hospice Charity Shop laden down with goodies for them, so nothing is going to waste.

Best seller of the day goes to Barbie.  Her late entrance proved to be worthwhile.

Her authenticity was questioned and we thought we may have to get Ken involved but she held her ground.

I gave her new owners some wise advice.

It is not OK to bend a dolls legs and arms backwards.  EVER.   It is also not OK to imply that my goods are anything other than legit.  Do we look like we are the type to house fake Barbie’s.  No.  Thought not.

Do not even think about asking me to knock the price down.

People can be cruel sometimes.

I do hope we have done the right thing for her.

And the ex soft furnishings from The Kid’s old bedroom are on their way to Thailand with another satisfied customer.

Everyone is a winner.

I can honestly say that I will never do another Car Boot Sale in this lifetime.

Iron Man and I are at one on this.

We are done with this chapter of our lives.

Promise!

The marriage would not survive.

Nicky

 

 

 

 

We’re Going Through The Roof

A decision has been very quickly reached in the household in the last few weeks.

Not just reached, but put into action.  There really is no stopping us.

Quite swift work I should say.

The decision has been made to go up rather than out.

I talk not about our svelte-like physiques but our home.

We have decided to have a loft conversion.

Rumour has it that this is due to Iron Man’s terrible snoring.

Personally, I will not have a word said against this man.  

It’s bad enough that he is going to be losing some key ‘man space’.

Lofts (particularly ours) are his domain.   The place where he goes to ‘not put things away properly’.  My only role is to shout futile instructions from the bottom of the ladder.

I do the occasional ‘Ofloft’ inspection and have made some very useful recommendations.  Whether or not they have been acted upon is another matter.

Finding boot sale stuff in the Christmas section is really hurtful when you’ve put so much effort into being the remote assistant.  

But it’s none of these things.  It’s space and we need more of it.  Actually, we want more of it. 

But what we gain in space we lose in storage.

This will mean a bit of fine tuning in the hoarding department.

Well more than that.  More like a damn good clear out, several hissy fits and floods of sentimental tears as we say goodbye to a lot of stuff that I we would probably rather keep.

I cannot stand clutter but I also don’t like to part with sentimental things.

I realise that makes me sound quite mad and I’m sure that when I hug my curtains from John Burns Drive, my first big girl home of 25 years ago, I will appear even madder.

The fact that these curtains have been in the roof for 20 years and are unlikely to come out again means that their journey down the loft ladder will probably be their last.

I’m still going to have a bloody good cry though.  They were my pride and joy.   My lovely top floor flat in Barking could well have been a Penthouse in Manhattan.  It was that wonderful.

I guess a good sign that an item is no longer useful is when it’s still in the removal box from the last home.

And our Christmas department would rival Selfridges.

The fact that we have a tree with three sides – is precisely what makes us the people that we are.

The fact that we have several other trees is evidence that we have aspirations to muscle in on the Harrods Parade.

And having stored clothes from Age 0-50 also means we could deck out floors 1-5 too.

And then there’s the cards.  Every card of The Kid’s for the last 10 years – birth, Christmas and birthday.  My cards, my parents cards and cards to and from people I don’t actually know.  That is going to be tricky.

And shock horror – the 18th & 21st keys.  That’s half the loft for starters.

Do people even have these keys anymore?  Do people even know what they are?

I wonder.

Such a rite of passage to receive and yet they serve no purpose, other than to sit in the loft.

Then comes Memory Boxes – and – well let’s just say it’s rubbed off on The Kid.

My memory boxes contain everything that’s ever made me smile, laugh or cry.  That’s one hell of a lot of things.

The Kid now has a memory section of her own and I only have myself to blame.

So my question today is :

‘Is it possible to be sentimental when you have no space?’

What do people do with their ‘stuff’?

The upside of all of this is that I get to exercise my creative side and start planning what it’s going to look like.

This is the fun bit.  One bedroom, one bathroom.

20 million colours and designs to choose from.  Not very long to do so.

No particular ideas as yet, other than a few thoughts around copper and silver.

I shall be checking in again with more thoughts around colours and designs soon.

If you don’t hear from me, it will probably be because I’m trying to decide on a sink!

Until next time

Nicky