Really? You’re going to give me money for that?
What’s the worst bit about doing a Car Boot? That’s right, getting up at bloody 6am on a Sunday morning. Still, I managed it, though Labrador Ben grumbled at the unaccustomed early disturbance. Ellie, Gawd bless ‘er, also managed to rise, and two slices of toast and a five minute drive later we were setting up in the car park with a dozen other early risers.
It was quite disconcerting to be surrounded by dealers as we set up out dress rack and trestle table; they were buzzing around the car like wasps in jam, peering through the car windows at the stuff we had yet to take out. Here’s a dealer –So we had the table covered with Playmobil and assorted thingies, boxes of books, CDs, DVDs and (in a vain hope of getting money for such anachronistic technology) cassette tapes. Also there (another vain hope) was a huge box full of the VHS version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Clothes dangled from a rack on my left, dancing about in the wind like a ghostly conga line.
My first thought as the initial customers drifted past my goods without interest was that we’d be lucky to make a tenner here, then a voice from my left – “How much for this top?” and we were off! Over the next five hours, I sold a wide variety of goods for between 5p and £10.
There was a bloke who loved my DVDs, and bought kerzillions. There was a young boy, maybe ten years old, who looked tough and, I reasoned, was sure to be attracted by the plastic scorpion and tarantula. He bought a fluffy chick. A blonde babe thought my idea of packing Playmobil in Chinese takeaway boxes was brilliant, and bought four. Fluffy Chick Kid came back and bought some models of little birdies. A guy in a “I got wood” T-shirt cried “Buffy on VHS! Wow!”, and bought the lot, although he had to go fetch his car to take them home. Another feller found that a lot of my cassette tapes were folk music, and bought lots. Fluffy Chick Kid brought a few of his mates to the stall, telling them “This mester sells these really cool little statues of stuff”, of which they bought many. Items that I thought would never sell went quickly (a USB standard lamp!?), and others that I predicted would disappear quickly hardly raised an eyebrow. Nobody seemed to want books, oddly (and sadly). Although I did sell a very large volume of G K Chesterton.
By noon, there was a lot more table surface to see than there had been at seven, and we’d made THIS much money!