STICKING THE BOOT IN

The downside of this, is that things such as clothes and toys are soon outgrown and therefore consigned to the loft or shed. Those once cute, pink High School Musical corduroys with Zac Efron's mush sewn onto the backside pocket are now flapping about the ankles like a ship's distress signal. Power Rangers are like, 'so gay' now. (Although I always suspected the one in the powder-blue lycra.) Not that there's any wrong in it, you understand.

So the problem is, what to do with all the old children's paraphernalia? I know! A CAR BOOT SALE! Perfect.
So, at Dawn's crack on Sunday morning, I stuffed the motor full of old toys, clothing and some general bric-a-brac too good to bin and set the compass for Apps Court Farm in Walton.
As I queued to get into the sellers enclosure, knowing winks and nods were exchanged with my fellow Booters. A kindly old chap in a dayglo tabbard directed me to what would become my 'pitch' for the next 5 or so hours.
Before I had even turned the engine off, several faces, still puffy with sleep, had pressed themselves against the windows to get a first look at what I had on offer. It was like a scene from a Zombie movie. Trails of spittle and smudged fingerprints were left on the windows as I drove back and forth trying to shake the undead off me motor.

No sooner had I locked the legs of the pasting table together, a woman bought a fireguard from me. £5! A result in any language. I looked around to make sure I wasn't being watched and clicked my heels in the air. Once I had laid my stall out, I poured a steaming tea from my Thermos, sat back and waited. Things moved quite steadily; a naked doll with a drawn-on moustache - 20p. A pair of sparkly green nylon army slacks for dressing up in - 50p. A remote control car without the remote control - £1.
Then a kindly old lady came up to me and asked how much for the BabyBorn highchair - £2, and a round mirror with a spaceship surround - £1.
She bought them both from me and asked if i could look after them whilst she went for a mooch about. She also asked if I could look after a bag containing a Rory The Racing Car playsuit that she had bought earlier. No problem. Such a such sweet old lady.
I placed everything in the car for safe storage.

Many hours of telling undead hagglers that the brand new, unused chicken rotisserie was £15 and not £2.75 passed fairly quickly. More tea was consumed and by now the present Lady O'Hare had joined me with the kiddiewinkles. She was happily munching down on what appeared to be a donkey's appendage until closer inspection revealed it to be a foot-long sausage that flopped out either end of a bread roll. Nice. She helped out whilst the kids took turns in sitting on the roof of my car, scratching it down to the paintwork with the rivets on their jeans. A lovely, good old fashioned family day out.

Then the sweet old lady returned for her goods. "Of course." I obliged, and reached into the car and bought out the two items she had bought from me. "And the other thing I asked you to look after?" She asked. Hmmmn, I thought. I genuinely didn't remember her giving me anything else. The only thing in the car was the Rory The Racing Car playsuit, but I had taken that out earlier thinking it was another toy the kids never used, and had sold it. £1.50....DOH!!! The penny dropped. It was hers. Bugger.

Crimson with embarrassment, I went through the charade of tearing my car apart, 'looking' for it. "It was definitely in here." I yelled over my shoulder. Then I theatrically thrust one hand on my hip and the other to my forehead. I looked her squarely in the eye and said the only thing I could say in such a situation...
"Some bugger's stolen it."
Her face crumbled. She had been looking for one for her grandson for ages.
I felt so bad that I asked how much she had paid for it. "Two pounds." She replied.
50p more than I got for it. It seemed the right thing to do to give her £2 and mumble something about thieving gits.

As I watched her toddle off towards the bouncy slide and donkey sausage stall with her head bowed, I reflected on a day of mixed fortunes.
'Grannygate' aside, we had had a great time, and made enough money to pay for some of next year's boot sale items.