03.09.2006 08:59 - Fleamarkets
Fleamarkets, or car-boot sales, are the bane of my life.
The World's largest fleamarket notwithstanding, Her Maj is a great fan of attending fleamarkets. Fleamarkets are a great way of adding to the pile of useless crap that you have lying round the house. They are also a very good way, of getting rid of the piles of useless crap you have lying round the house, as we found out when I moved in with her and had to get rid of accumulated stuff.
Since then, she's started taking stalls at fleamarkets.
The problem with this, is that her relations have discovered that she is selling stuff at fleamarkets, and so they give her stuff to sell at the fleamarkets. This means that the cellar, once reserved for storing our stuff, is now home to enormous cardboard boxes full of clothes, porcelain and books which have been "donated" by her relatives, but which she hasn't managed to shift at the fleamarkets. It also means that I am unable to put any of my stuff down in the cellar. The stuff is also overflowing. For the past month, since she got the new house, she has been trying to get rid of the contents which were left behind by the previous occupant.
This means even MORE crap for us to store. I thought the point was to get rid of the accumulated crap whilst making a bit of money, not accumulate everybody else's crap.
Our poor car is bottomed out on it's suspension, because the back seat and boot are packed to the rim with books and porcelain. I've even left it open a couple of times, but the neighbourhood thieves won't take the hint. She keeps insisting that the next fleamarket will see the stuff finally gone.
I say this.
Put. The. Fucking. Stuff. On. Ebay.
Before I buy a big hammer.