FROM TEENAGE KICKS TO CAR BOOT TRIPS

SEVENTH BLOG 4.12.13

2018 EDIT: My poor mother! I'm still here (kind of) lurking like a bad smell - it's a good job she loves me.

This blog also reminded me of just how much I fucking hate car boot sales. I still get a lurch to the stomach just thinking of the soul-destroying nature of them.

FROM TEENAGE KICKS TO CAR BOOT TRIPS

Remember when you were a teenager and living at home? If you were anything like me you played your music loud and repeatedly; occasionally had shouting matches with your parents with the ensuing slamming of doors, followed by the resultant sulking in your bedroom as you didn’t get your own way.

All part of growing up and ‘detaching’ from that strong familial bond that formed since birth, or so I’ve read. You start testing the boundaries, and getting ‘humpy’ with your folks, so that when the time comes to finally fly the coop, there’s some excited anticipation (from all parties) that makes the parting that little bit easier.

There’s a good reason that once children grow-up, in most cases they leave home. Adults probably shouldn’t live with their parents unless absolutely necessary. Mainly for the reasons that (presuming you actually leave in the first place) you get used to having your own space; your own things in their rightful places; your own routines; oh, and the **all-important** being able to walk around the house naked.

So, here I am holed up in my new ‘bedsit-land’, with partner, dog, TV and laptop for company. It’s not nirvana, but we’re warm, fed, watered, and safe. This is a hiatus from our ‘Big Adventure’, whilst we’re in the planning phase of What We Do Next, and we’re learning important lessons in diplomacy aka Keeping Out Of The Way, because we’re mindful that, as difficult as this is for us, it might be just as difficult for ‘The Folks’. It’s all been a bit stressful: condensing your life into storage and one room when you’re used to living (comparatively) sprawled across eight different rooms; having to work around other people’s habits and routines; trying not to leave your belongings lying around - whether that’s a suitcase full of your clothes, a dirty cup, a clean cup (!), your laundry (clean or dirty), your redirected mail. It’s a constant checking of yourself because although this might only be for a couple of months, you don’t want to upset your hosts even if it is your own mother, who is being a complete star about the whole arrangement, and her husband. Imagine Christmas Day and being on your best behaviour, and then multiply that by sixty (days). The sensitivity comes because one of my ‘‘rents’ isn’t actually a blood relative, but my Mum’s second husband, and whilst he’s fine with having us to stay, we are being mindful not to encroach on their personal time. I suppose it’s an important lesson in respect and not taking anything or - more importantly - anyONE for granted.

So, we’re living like house-sharers live, only more politely. If the milk runs out we replace it. We don’t leave wet towels

lying around. We put new toilet rolls on the toilet roll spindly thing. We tidy up after ourselves, rather than leaving it ‘for later’. We shovel horse shit. And dog shit. We cook. We clean. We take the rubbish out. We’re regular fucking house elves. :)

Rather than take any refuge in alcohol, I’ve instead largely veered away from it. I’ve been taking prescribed sleeping pills to shut my brain down at night. I’ve barely posted status updates on Facebook (unheard of for me) because I’m not sure what I’m thinking. If I’m honest, I’ve felt a little down, because I’m caught between the ‘should be doing more’ and the ‘utterly despondent about not knowing where to start’.

We made a fairly positive start at the weekend when we got up at five o’clock on Sunday morning, slurped a hasty cup of tea, and then dragged a sleepy Otterhound up to the barn, from whence we towed a trailer, full of - basically - crap, to ‘One of the South West’s largest car boot fairs’. We arrived at about 6.45, and after a cock-up of the queuing variety, got in and parked, then set up our trestle tables, and laid our splendid wares out for all to see, pick up, poke at, and then try to haggle us down from one pound to fifty pence.

The day started cold and dark, and bizarrely as the day went on it got colder. I was already layered up with two, and sometimes three layers of everything from head to toe. Here’s a handy tip for you - when it’s cold, do NOT lean against your car. It’s like one big ice block on your backside. By 10 a.m. I was stomping my feet, and my other half was taking Charity for a walk to warm them both up (to be fair, Charity had been warmly ensconced in the car on her beanbag, AND had breakfast in bed). They came back from one of these wanders with Fran saying ‘I’ve just been invited stag hunting!’ (she politely declined).

The day’s first sale: a wall-paper steamer, complete, used, and sold for three quid. Later sales included a saucepan (approximately twenty years old) for fifty pence (with certain people you can just tell that they’re not going to go for a pound, so you get in there, ‘BOOM!’ with the lowest price you can bear - #winning #irony); an egg poacher, with the four cups in - a loyal friend of old and which is much better than the stupid silicon things (unless I’m doing that wrong) and I’ve been regretting selling that ever since. If you remember my previous posting about Eggs Benedict ... seriously, what was I thinking?! I’ll take small solace in the fact that I sold it to a lovely young woman who was buying it because her boyfriend ‘is obsessed with poached eggs’ and is now getting a second-hand egg poacher and a second-hand Alan Titchmarsh book for Christmas. He’s a lucky boy. These are austere times after all, my friends.

We went on to sell some travel games, old boots, an ancient book on judo, a car stereo, and some greetings cards. Things we could not sell and won’t be bothering to try again (they’ve gone to the tip) included an ancient dusty suitcase, an abdominal exerciser (hands up who still has one of those?), a well worn pressure-cooker (that used to scare me to death as a child - yes, it’s that old - because I always thought it was going to explode) and some old flower vases (one broke on the way there, so I made sure it had company.) Things that live to fight another day include a box of weights with two arm dumbbells, five stubborn DVDs that refuse to be sold, an earthenware crock-pot, more old saucepans, tee-shirts (new), a juicer, two spice jar racks, and various other junk, which we will gradually be adding to over the coming weeks. If you’re in the area, look out for us, as I’m sure you can’t wait to get your hands on this stuff.

You can meet some pleasant people at car boot fairs You can also meet some crazies at them. This time it was the old fella who decided to regale me with what appeared to be his five favourite jokes. When he was on number three and my eyes were glazing over, I was wondering if he was ever going to move on. Bless him, he was probably lonely, so I hope my expression of ‘rabbit in the headlights’ didn’t upset him too much. Previously, I’ve had ‘Crazy Star Wars Lady in Mobility Scooter’ and before that I’ve had ‘Book and Stamp Collector Who Tries To Hit On Me’. Oh lord, I do get ‘em!

Apparently these things don’t exist in the USA, and I’ve been asked to provide photos the next time I go - in which case, if there’s suddenly an outbreak of ‘car trunk aka boot sales’ in the States, I’m taking some of the credit. You read it here first.)

My 7 Top Tips for Car-Booting:

1. Have a car.

2. Fill the boot, back seat, trailer, etc. depending on how much tat you have to get rid of.

3. Take a float (as in change). When people only want to pay 50p for something and you’ve just got a £20 note in your pocket, it’s going to be a long morning.

4. Take a friend. If you don’t take a hot drink or some food with you, you’re going to be hungry and bursting for the loo (they usually provide them - the sites, not your friend).

5. Be polite, but don’t be mugged off by cheeky people trying to haggle you down to a stupid price. Although, to be fair, if you’re car-booting your stuff, you’ve probably not managed to sell it on eBay, so just get the hell rid of it if you don’t plan on doing many of these godforsaken things!

6. Beware when you first arrive - other traders/sellers will descend on you like a veritable flock of seagulls, and if you don’t lock your car they will even open up for themselves to dig through your stuff for any bargains. Make the buggers back off and wait.

7. People are always interested in computer games and trainers.

That’s all from me this week. Over the next few days, I’ll give myself a kick up the arse and count my blessings, rather than moan about my First World Problems. Thanks for reading, and don’t forget if you want my nonsense to land in your inbox without you having to check my website, just enter your details by clicking where it says 'subscribe' up there at the top.

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