Car boot sale season is upon us.
Now I don’t know whether it’s the same where you live, but round here car boot sales are either heaven or hell. For the most part they are hell.
Today we went to a scrumptious little one: a car boot sale in the truest sense of the word, not yet ruined by meat auctions, market traders or the ubiqtuos hot dog stands. Usually I attend these sales with a sinking heart, wandering from car to car disappointed by all the usual junk: copies of "Titanic", Steven King Novels and gruesome clothes, but today was different. Yes there were all the usual suspects, but in amongst the trash- true vintage treasure: a girl with tin boxes full of Mother of pearl buttons, a woman specialising in vintage cookery books, three tables full of shabby chic floral tableware, and a gorgeous old man practically giving away embroidered tableclothes (my favorite!)…
It was fabulous and I will definitely be back next week: yes the people with the good stuff were obviously dealers, and you don’t get quite the same thrill that you would if some old dear had emptied her attic into the back of her Ford Fiesta, but everything was ludicrously cheap and nothing beats car booty treasure for making you feel like you’ve got something for nothing…
Today I bought two Redoute prints in gloriously tacky white and gold frames (20p each!) for the kitchen, a gilt edged pink floral plate for the change Mark scatters all over the dining room table (£1.00), 20 large Mother of Pearl buttons just because they were lovely (£2.00), a
Scrumptious.
Tomorrow morning we journey into hell for the sake of another cute old man who sells crocheted bits and bobs for buttons, at the most horrendous car boot sale in the area.
Wish me luck.
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