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A bric a brac conga...

Friday night and heading up the High Street, just one more shift, then weekend, I thought. No yippee, no singing and dancing, I'm just so relieved to have got through another week of work. As I walked, I saw a young man up ahead of me exiting a Chinese takeaway carrying his little white plastic carry-out bag also holding an i-phone with his left hand and typing into his phone with his right. And that saddened me.
"Don't cook just eat.
Don't talk just tweet."
I thought to myself as I walked.
Go buy a few spuds and cook them, have somebody round, bust a can or three. Have you really got no-one to talk to?

On Saturday morning, I was intending to take that book back to the bus-stop on my way to Stugely and leave it on the seat where I'd found although that could be tricky. If there were people waiting for a bus I could hardly just walk up to the stop, out the book down and walk off could I? And then, would anybody notice or care? Maybe I'd chicken out and bring it back home with me. Thankfully there was no-one there and so I stopped and sat a while, put the book back where I'd found it a few weeks ago then went to catch my bus. Job done. I'd added a little comment to the note that I'd taken for a book mark and hoped that maybe some-one else would do the same. When I returned from my shopping trip the book was gone. Feeling cheered and hoping that it had been taken by someone with good intent. I shall be looking out for that little book and we shall see. Small pleasures eh?

Shopping at Asda's went pretty much same as but, having had words with the young woman who had served me in the cafe' last week and billed me for the wrong items and over-charged me, albeit only thirty pence, Id effectively barred myself from there for the time being, so if I found myself with time to kill I'd have to do it some place else. I took a gentle stroll through town to a bus-stop at the other end of town, found a seat and set about devouring my bag of custard doughnuts. I didn't have long to wait as it happened, and the sun was shining, so all was good here in ditherdom.

Back to the present, or, as the Soul track goes, "back to life, back to reality, the here and now yeahhh". Sunday, just another shopping day really but it was also "car boot" day. Every three or four weeks a football ground on the edge of town hosts a car boot sale and today was just such a day and one couldn't have wished for better weather. The ice-cream and burger venders must have made a killing.
As I made my way out of town I could see them, a never ending trail of people, car-booters mostly, snaking it's way homewards. Mothers, some but not all, with prams and toddlers, all looking hot and irritable loaded with all manner of other peoples' cheap cast-offs. One woman was clearly struggling to retain any level of dignity and patience, pushing a toddler in a buggy with one hand, a slightly older one trailing behind, and a standard lamp that was easily as tall as me in the other and, if push came to shove, I'm not sure that the lamp would have been jettisoned first. She didn't look as though she'd be letting go of that, her little piece of treasure, any time soon. Another woman was making hard work of getting her bargains home. A huge brown Teddy bear and a pink fluffy rabbit, both stood, at at the very least, a metre high, they were filthy and on it went. An endless trail of people dancing a conga, a bric a brac conga, back into town and heading home.

And that's about it really. I went, I shopped, and now I'm home. Oh! and the sun is shining.

Happy daze.



That's a full weekend. People watching, book thieving / redemption and self-abuse via cholesterol.

My wife would spend all day at one of your "car boot sales". She has a specific set of skills: She identifies random 'junk' that she can buy and re-sell for a tidy profit on eBay.
Y'know, people break a Joseph or a Wise Man, but refuse to throw away the whole Nativity set. Like an angel, in swoops my wife. She sells ceramic magi, camels, you name it. But she remains humble in her task. Doesn't want to develop a messiah complex.

Oh, dither. That sun? Melanoma. Sun screen is your friend.
I have a work colleague who trawls the local boot sales for stuff to make on e-bay. He doesn't make a fortune, little more than a hobby really, but like your wife, he concentrates on certain things and if he sees something that could make him a few quid he snaps it up.
The sun was shining but it wasn't a scorcher, I don't enjoy the heat and usually cover myself anyway.

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