Riddle: I spend my Saturday mornings tearing across a grassy field in my scruffiest clothes alongside like-minded individuals who I am none-the-less competing aggressively against. Its a great social experience but I'm there primarily for the win. Afterwards, I collapse, content and exhausted, into the long green grass and mull over the triumphs of the morning. I bemoan the one that got away. I gloat over the sneaky victory. I replay the key moments in my mind.
And yet I hate football, or any sport, for that matter.
Guessed it yet? I'm talking about Car Boot Sales. That glorious British tradition of stuffing a car full of junk and offloading it onto a bargain hunter such as myself after the exchange of hard-won cash.
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| Here is my beloved York Racecourse car boot, viewed from the corner of the field where I was sunning myself with my haul. |
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| Always an abundance of tea-cups |
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| Who remembers tupperware? |
p.s. If you like the look of my organic, neutral toned antique finds, head over to my vintage shop www.yorkvintage.co.uk or pop in to my mini-shop at The Flax and Twine on The Shambles, York [where I am selling the lush yellow embroidered linen laundry bag, amongst other treasures]
