I knew I’d need to get up early Saturday morning, if I was gong to get to the Boot Sale on time.
The last time Mark and I had attended, we’d arrived at 6.30 am and were one of the last cars allowed in. This time we’d better be early.
Why do we put ourselves through this pain? The prospect of making money of course. It would be embarrassing to be turned around at the gate and then have the hassle of having to unload and then re-store all our boxes of pre-loved goodies once again.
5.15am was my appointed time to wake and get sorted if I was to pick up my Selling partner up at 5.45am. As it happened, I chose to sleep downstairs in the lounge on our sofa, so as not to wake the household when my alarm burst into life. Thankfully the car was loaded Friday night, I simply just had to wake up, feed myself and get active. I got to Marks at 5.55 or thereabouts and to the Boot Sale just after 6. Success.
Our neighbours for the day were a grumpy woman, (I’ll call her Brenda), who’d pretty much barged her way into the sale in her monstrously huge 4×4, and quite evidently didn’t want to be there, and to our left, was Adam and a rather effusive, yet friendly chatter box of a chap. Like me, it turned out, he was in need of extra cash. In addition to selling he took great pleasure in pointing out a number of well endowed women as they came into view. Mark and I, cringed round the side of our car.
When not distracted by shapely women, Adam would be engaging customers with great deals, or offer us his advice and tell jokes. Better this, we decided than Ms Grumpy, who it appeared, didn’t ‘do mornings’ as such, or ‘do friendly banter’. We left her alone.
By 10am we’d had our lunch, (Marks homemade cheese and pickle sandwiches were most welcome). For us the sale had started well, selling toys, books, a couple of cds and a food mixer which eventually made way for a load of cuddly toys. If there was one disappointment when it came to leaving the site, it was that the bright blue potty had failed to sell.
Brenda disappeared early in her armoured vehicle, much to the anger of the events chief Steward, and Adam, (we think) left with with pockets bulging with a wad of notes, and maybe a phone number or two. Mark and I left confident we were sixty to seventy pounds better off.
Once home, about 1pm, with my eldest son to assist, I counted our days takings and decided it had not actually been our best day. A profit of forty five pounds was rather disappointing but once again I was grateful to Mark for his company and help.
Truth be told, we’d be potty not to try again another day.
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