Husband and I did a car boot sale on Saturday.
When I say did I mean we took a phenomenal amount of junk we hadn't used for ages to a field and got weird strangers to buy it from us.
And I'm not just saying that.
The car was loaded with husband's old bike he hadn't used since his college days.
My mini trampoline (which I don't want to go into).
The "travel system" buggy/pram thing we had for eldest when he first hatched.
Some old folding chairs.
A Reebok step.
A sit up exercise thingy.
Lots of pairs of husbands old jeans he was decided he no longer needs.
Some speaker cable and other computery wires.
And some baby clothes. Honest, a load of rubbish.
Well, not all rubbish.
Some of the baby clothes were unstained, not bobbly and could probably be worn again.
I'd been fed up with boxes and boxes and boxes of worn and now redundant little clothes cluttering up my home so decided, seeing as I AM NOT HAVING ANY MORE BABIES to have a cleansing clearout. I threw virtually everything the boys don't wear anymore into a huge "to go" pile and rubbed my hands together at the prospect of making a bit of cash out of my offspring. (Hmm, that doesn't make me sound terribly nice does it? Ah well.)
As it was, the boxes of neatly folded, predominantly blue outfits were initially ignored by the car boot sale regulars. The regulars who are at the car boot sale as you arrive weren't fussed about tiny tank tops and size 6 shoes.
These hardcore regulars swoop in at you as you open your boot to ask:
"Do you have any phones/perfume/games/records/jewelry?"
If you do and you disclose this fact expect help unpacking the car. And then be prepared for some frankly preposterous negotiating.
Buyer: How much do you want for Halo 3?
Me: Ummm, I think the price is on it. Yes, £5.
Buyer: Will you take 50p?
Me: Um, probably not but try do back later. Thank you.
Very poor skills indeed.
But this time it was all about the diddy clothes. And I was totally unprepared for the emotional reaction selling these items would trigger.
When a lady cracked open the newborn box I almost cried. With immense concentration she rifled through the sleepsuits my chaps had lived, breathed, fed and poo'd in. The newborn outfits that seemed vast when I carefully dressed my fresh-out little fellas. She was looking at them, holding them and, goodness me, she was planning on buying some! I managed to momentarily distract her and was able to grab the first outfits of both sons out of her clutches whilst reprimanding myself for allowing them to be anywhere near the "to go" pile.
I resigned myself to giving up the rest. And wondered off for a cry.
And to buy stuff.
Come on! 6 dvds for a tenner is pretty amazing. I snagged:
In the Bedroom
The Secret of My Success
Roary the Racing Car
Little Red Tractor
(Though a difficult scene on Little Red Tractor, where a sheep almost got squashed, made Shouty cry a lot yesterday.)
On the whole, our annual car boot sale was a success. I am proud to say we virtually sold out. All we brought home was some baby t shirts and a few bits of pc stuff.
And of course all the new junk we bought.
It wasn't all terrible spontaneous purchases.
I will use the scooter. Definitely.
It's the punch bag with gloves that I'm not so sure about.
I was a total bargain. £15 for the set.
How many times have I punched it?
Um, about 8 times. I make that £1.87 per punch.
The man who sold it to me was pleasant enough.
He asked me, as I began dragging my new bag back to my stall "In to boxing are you?"
My response was "Not really. To be honest I imagine the bag is just going to hang in the shed and get dusty but you never know."
And I haven't even mentioned the guy who was wearing 3 hats.