Another Saturday, another village jumble sale. We are now the proud possessors of a portable black and white TV. I switch it on, hoping for re-runs of The White Heather Club. Oh, and some strange Swedish kitchen scales with a slider thingy, an embroidery of the cave paintings at Lascaux and a lampshade. This jumble sale was a civilised affair, unlike the ones in the next village where folk cut a swathe to the bric-a-brac, armed with enormous bags, push chairs and shopping trolleys, scattering OAPs and toddlers alike. At all jumble sales, however, there's an unwritten rule as to how to go through the piles of clothing, creating a peristaltic movement of items down the line for the next person to see. It's quite amazing what people buy, a embroidery of the cave paintings at Lascaux, for example. Meanwhile, I'm off to practice the Sir Roger de Coverley, just in case the BBC comes to its senses.
2 comments:
Brings back memories of my PTA days and of not so civilized goings on at our bi-annual jumbles, for a couple of hours before the school hall doors opened there would be a ever expanding queue ,and the teachers car park usually full of smart small hatch-backs would be groaning with Transit vans and elderly Volvo estates. Then at the appointed time a surge of action as unwanted clothing was cast aside ,bric a brac inspected , helpers bartered with and bullied ,refuse sacks filled ,fights and arguments calmed and then just as quickly, all was calm and the 'professional 'car booters had gone , leaving a trail of of destruction behind .On the other hand though was shocked to see someone wearing an old jacket of mine that I had sent to the sale once , felt a little like it was cheating on me with its new owner , hope they had many happy times together.
It is madness, isn't it? People go through the boxes underneath the table, throwing out anything they don't want, which then gets trampled underfoot. I'm helping with another one in a few weeks' time ... must go into training.
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