The other day we decided to declutter some of the 'stuff' that has failed to sell on eBay and isn't good enough for a proper auction house. So we gathered our boxes. Brian-next-door added two old cabinets (one with a drawer missing) and the little blue car was loaded up.
There was just enough room for it all and the three of us. We set off to the next village.
To the village hall.
Where we booked our things in. There was quite a lot of miscellaneous 'stuff'' there already. Some of it even made our humble offerings look tempting.
The next night we set forth again, to see if anything would sell. To be honest, the only thing I held any hope for was the old top box from Andy's motor bike. Brian was tempted by a few things, but I did have to remind him of what Jean would say if he came home with another drill, even if the battery on his other one is flat.
So there we were with our bits and bobs. A box of old cameras and film things, probably not working...
Noddy and the Flintstones...
...a box of Happy Meal toys, collected from charity shops over the years...
...and the bedside cabinets, the motorbike top box and a bound set of old National Geographic magazines from the 1940s. People began shuffling to the main hall for the auction. I think a lot of the room was filled with locals having an night out. Which was pretty much what it was for us too.
I think we were there for nearly three hours as the various bits of bric-a-brac were sold. Or not sold. The Happy Meals toys came home with us, as did the two bedside cabinets. The top-box nearly sold but was just under the £10 reserve. So it has gone back into the next auction.
In the end we made (after fees) the princely sum of £7. But looking on the bright side, that pays for a couple of loaves of bread and some milk. And we've got more space.
It's funny what lurks in sheds. Brian-next-door was showing me a pair of old oil lamps and I spotted this. I squealed. I really did squeal. He was a little confused at my delight as it was 'just some old shelves' which he uses to store oil and paint cans. The back has rotted and was replaced with paste board, which is also rotting.
Although my lovely neighbours have become accustomed to my love of what they consider to be junk, I think this one had Brian stumped. But bless him, he removed the cans, levered it from the dirt floor, chased away a colossal fat, black spider and together we dragged it out into the sun.
It must be about seven feet long and quite low. I think it was probably once the base to a huge farm dresser. The cupboard space is deep, however the doors are long gone. I can't remember the exact story Brian related, but it seems to have lived in a few local places, including an uncle, before being entombed in the damp old privy.
Look, I know, it's a bit shafted. Apparently it's been used as a workbench in previous lives. Hence the paint blobs, the oil spills and the gouges.But imagine if it were cleaned up and restored. It's a good, honest chunk of country pine, crying out for some attention and a good dollop of beeswax.
Brian did his best to dissuade my enthusiasm, seeing nothing but a knackered old unit which would otherwise serve it's purpose and eventually fall apart. And the surface damage bothered him. I said repeatedly that I liked that and would probably leave some remains of it, if I sanded it down, to show the history. I think I lost him there; he would replace it with a new bit of wood.
He was convinced that the top might be an add-on, as it appeared to be screwed down and maybe underneath there would be a better, original slab of wood. So he got his screwdriver out. I held my breath and tried not to wince.
But no, it was part of the piece. So, having convinced Brian that I really did love it, warts and all, it is now mine. But it has gone back into the shed, for the time being. The cottage is still in a state of partial renovation, and walls need plastering before anything else goes in. It is going to look amazing though.
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Brian A. Klems is the online editor of Writer’s Digest and author of the popular gift book Oh Boy, You’re Having a Girl: A Dad’s Survival Guide to Raising Daughters.
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