I realise I haven't been writing titles for these things since I started again. I've been missing a trick there, as titles are one of life's more pleasant things, and have always been good to me in the past. And so I've made the decision to pull my socks up, pull my finger out, get on up, and get back to adding them.
Boot sale season must nearly be upon us. I'm not sure whether there's an official start date or whether it's just kinda when enough people start to feel a bit broody for them and turning up in fields on weekend mornings that they start to happen. Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about the boot sale recently, so hopefully others will have too and, when the magic number is reached, we can all get out there and get browsing through other people's unwanted shit again. I've always had a penchant for boot sales... I suspect it's a hereditary condition passed down from my grandad, who was never happier than when he was strolling through a field with cash in pocket, the aroma of hot dog drifting on the breeze, inspecting old Cluedo boxes and various bits and pieces that I can only describe as 'shed things' - as they often took the form of small bags of metal hooks or nails, or pocket-sized tool kits, and would always end up finding their place in his shed. It's slightly off-topic but I remember being given a small leather-bound toolkit for Christmas on more than one occasion. Small spanners, a screwdriver and a little socket set. I still use one of them now. Heh, his philosophy seemed so simple to me: If it was an object that had absolutely no right to be in this world, and certainly no use for him whatsoever, he'd buy it. And not only would he buy it, oh no... he'd haggle. He would make a point of haggling. He was a great haggler.
Anyway, I've got a little sidetracked there... getting all nostalgic for my grandad... and that's not really why I sat down to write this. I guess I just wanted to share the somewhat irrational excitement that I feel towards the impending boot sale season. As I was saying, I've always enjoyed them (and for some reason they are embedded in my childhood memories) but I can't recall ever feeling quite so excited by them. Certainly not boot sales of the future. Maybe it's another sign of my advancing age. It'll be heart disease next.
I think it's part to do with an idea I have of setting up a strange stall where I will be selling only mirrors. I've got an abundance of mirrors now. Mirrors have become my work. Admittedly it's terrible work, but it's work all the same. So, yeah, err, the plan is to set up stall and flog them to the masses. Churn them out. I can see a gap in the market... you know, if people want shit, I can give them shit. I'll need to buy a megaphone first though. Gotta go the full distance... 'cause halfway there is never enough*. Heh.
* Hilarious in-joke for the benefit of myself and nobody else. But, hey! they all count...