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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 5318
6:30 PM and I'm in line at the Christ Church Rummage sale. It doesn't start until 7:00 PM, fortunately it's a warm night, and although I'm half an hour early, by the standards of this rummage sale I'm already late, there are about 30 people ahead of me, not a line, strictly, more of mass of people who've read the papers, seen the signs and are here, like me, to find some treasures.
I recognize a few of the Hillhurst flea market dealers, there's the Camera guy and his brother, another vendor with a stall of antiques, a couple of other dealers I recognize but can't place, a few die-hard garage salers and about a dozen strangers.
I'm here in hopes of a big score, perhaps a fine vintage watch, this rummage sale is one of three big ones that are held semi-annually throughout Calgary that attract crowds. The Samaritan Rummage sale in Hillhurst is a huge one, twice a year creating lineups of over 300 people. The Scarborough Church one is another, perhaps creating lines of 100. And half an hour early on a Friday night the line is growing behind me, up the hill, down the street, as more dealers and thrifters come and join the crowd.
People stamp their feet to keep warm, grandmas slowly edge their way forward into the line, when the doors open at 7:00 there will be a full-court press to get through the doors, each person to the room where their own objects of desire may be sold, my first hit will be the treasure room, down the hall and to the back, to quickly peruse the jewellry and search for men's watches. Camera guy and the antique dealer will be going there as well, but if I hustle I might beat them. From there a quick gad-about to see what else there might be, look at the pictures, the collectables, maybe some antique candlesticks, having moved into a new place a few months ago I find there's still things I'm missing, ...
The important thing is to be open...most often you won't find what you're looking for, but if you keep your eyes peeled, you just might find something better....
Volunteers for the church show up, one, two at a time, have to press through the crowd, knock on the door, give the password and then get admitted. The crowd gets a bit unruly, thinking these people are butting into line, worrying that they might get first dibs on treasures they want, some of the more vocal take advantage of the open door to plead their case, they want in out of the cold, they have other committments....
The volunteers have heard it all before. No one gets in early.
Finally it's 7:00, the crowd parts just enough to allow the doors to open, the volunteers back away from the tide that forces itself through, 4-5-6 abreast, into the church. It's a miracle none are trampled. God was never so popular as when he held a rummage sale.
When I get in I make my way first to the back room, already the old harridans and babushkas have the jewellry staked, I'm lucky, I recognise a thrifter in place at the table who passes me a box full of watches. A quick pick through, find those of interest, pass the box to my left, the antiques dealer got distracted on his way in and so loses out.....but I'll let him pick through and discover that....I scan the jewellry table for anything else of interest, and then on to the next area. If you're undecided you grab first, make up your mind later. Should you take a moment to appraise an item of interest chances are high someone will grab it from under your nose. Hold it while you make up your mind.
I'm out in half an hour, it gets claustrophobic this, the elbows flying, the swell and crush of people at the tables, and I've found my share of the treasures - an antique wooden toybox, $5.00, an antique pressed-glass lampshade - $2.00, 3 watches for a dollar each, none of any great merit, but for a dollar each I couldn't leave them behind. All in all, not a bad haul.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2387
I have a certain mania for paper. I make notes to myself on scraps of paper, sketches, lists - things to buy, to do, occasions, addresses, I buy notebooks and try to organize myself with them, filling them with scraps, try to order my thoughts so that each thought finds it's related notebook, the notebooks pile up, I have now 5, 6, 7... boxes filled with notebooks and scraps of paper, post it notes, under my desk.
I hope to file them one day, go through them, move the ideas onto the computer where they won't fill the office, sort them into folders, briefcases, map them, notes for plays, books, poems, paid bills, rants...
Some are just the small notebooks, filled with things I should remember to buy next time I'm in Egypt, India, Japan...at first a small notebook for all the countries, later several small notebooks, one for each country. Then there are the coil-bound notebooks, song-cycles, poems, there are the gift notebooks, from people who wanted to encourage me to write, these are largely untouched, expensive hand-embossed Italian leather, I want to write in them as well, but they need a more finished product, they are expensive and so worthy only of the finest, distilled thoughts. There are scraps from sketch pads, watercolor, calligraphy paper, torn pieces of drawings I thought worth preserving, Ideas not completely worked out in final concept, these are stuffed randomly into other notebooks. There are address books, several, I've thought to marry them a few times, edit them to reflect my current realm of acquaintance, letters, old suitcases full of lapsed correspondences, memories, postage stamps and postcards, old photographs, there are the day timers, records of days and years past, how much I earned, spent, there are old passports, birth & baptismal certificates, print-offs from the computer, all piled together, jammed into boxes.
There are lists, shopping lists, movies to see, books to read, plays to attend, places to go, various failed attempts to prioritize my finances, old bills, envelopes, clippings from newspapers and catelogues....
I need a secretary.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2610
7:00 PM, wanted to take a nap but forestalled it, the inevitable trick-or-treaters would be arriving soon, and I'm not such a curmudgeon that I'd hide to avoid giving out candy. In fact I want to give it out, just looking at it is making me sick....
But not a single caller. The street is well lit, everywhere there are pumpkins, silhouettes of cats in windows, garbage bags stuffed with leaves and done up as pumpkins...but no trick-or-treaters.
Not yet, anyways. So time for a quick post, and hope they get here soon to save me from rotting teeth and indigestion...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2349
It's an old house, and it's filled with noise long after the workmen have left. The fridge and furnace intermittently kick in and out, there's the sound of magpies and crows on the roof as they hide their treasures and try to crack their nuts. A slow leaking faucet drips-drips-drips, and there are throaty gurgles as the drains all at once decide to swallow. Squirrels rattle in the drainpipes. There are other noises from the kitchen, sounds of objects being dropped or falling, but upon investigation nothing is ever out of place, there are rattles, I blame the mouse. In the bedroom at night I can hear it, he always sounds as if he's in the room with me, chewing, I haven't found what he's chewing.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2288
I'm being followed by a tiger. I'm in the "Bibles for Missions" thrift store, there's a low probability of treasure, but I'm searching nonetheless.
It's handy to my house.
And there's a little 5 year old boy, cute, he's found a tiger mask in the store and he's stalking me.
I showed fear, which you should never do with tigers, and when he lifts his mask I warn him of the tiger on the loose in the store.
He appears unconcerned.
I tell him the store has called a hunter, who will probably come and poach the tiger when he sees it, so if he, the little boy, sees the tiger he should warn him.
He grins broadly.
"No, it's serious" I tell him and wonder where his mom is. "You never see tigers any more, it's because the hunters have got them all. Go find the tiger and warn him".
He eventually toddles off to hide in an aisle and find another victim. Which is why you don't see tigers in the wild anymore, they don't listen to reason.