Monday April 18, 2005
I kicked myself, late Saturday, to realise I’d completely forgotten about the local antiques fair and, today, all the more so as I mailed off the last of my eBay items.
I have nothing left to sell!
The loft, garage and all cupboards have now been cleared of all the stuff we’ve a mind to unload and that feels good. I’m going to miss the end of auction excitement and the steady low-level employment that selling on eBay has given me, though. The next antiques sale I know of is on May 7 and I’ll tie a knot in my handkerchief so as not to forget it. Clearly, having been bitten by the bug, I need to get out and see what I can find to sell on at a small profit.
I suppose I ought to be a good little shopkeeper and total up the amount of dosh I’ve earned on eBay to date. I doubt if I shall, being of the mind that facts and figures are for other, more practical folks. I suspect it’s not far short of a thousand pounds, which is pretty good going and has been an enormous boost to our budget. I don’t want to become too fanatical about it but I have to say that a little extra unexpected cash oils the wheels of day-to-day living to an astonishing extent when you’re operating on a pension.
Besides, my new postal scale will turn up any day now and I really must have work for it to do or it’ll end up in a cupboard, sad and neglected, just as knitting machines, spring-driven Abs-builders and poem-less poets do.
It’s been a lovely, bright day, though and I enjoyed my trip to Spilsby. I even walked on up to the ironmongers at the top of the street to pick up a tea-towel holder, and had the greatest fun avoiding rosette-bearing canvassers of different political parties, out seeking votes. Funny, that. You only ever see these people during the run up to an election, then they scurry off to do secret political things in dark places. Like I say, I avoided them. It’s one thing being fed falsehoods over TV and radio but another kettle of rotten fish altogether when they do it straight to your face. The walk did me a power of good, though, and my legs didn’t act up even to the last.
While the Spring has liberated me, and given me more time in my day, one activity is being throttled by it. The only table in the house where I can sit down to do my water colour painting is in the dining room, with south and south-west facing windows, and that is now in full sunshine from early morning right up to lunch time. I can’t paint in bright sunlight and I’m strictly a morning painter.
“You need a north-facing window for that,” Graham said, full of sympathy.
“Yeah, I know. But we can’t put a work table in the bathroom and that’s the only north window we have.”
“I know that, you silly old fool. I’m thinking of the next place.”
“Ah. The next place. Another item for the list?”
“It’s already there.”