In Search Of A Good Deal

In Search Of A Good Deal

It was Easter Sunday at the car boot sale
and there were bargains
everywhere.

I joined the booters who milled and mooched
picking between the amateurs and traders
and those who thought they were traders.

As I went I heard snippets of conversation -
"you can 'ave the lot for 75p
if yer interested".

And then there were the cheery cock sparrers
bloated by a surfeit of EastEnders
and market memories,
who thought they did all a big favour
simply by being there
and being cheery, duck.

And everywhere there were pens, pads, batteries,
second-hand clothes (all this 'rale' half price),
videos and 'humerous' cards.

Items long since better discarded
were displayed in the hope of a pick-up
and resurrection.

Scruffy children barge by in excitement,
ignoring completely my sarcasm:
"I do hope I'm not in your way".

Bending over the replica perfume stall.
I catch a whiff from the burger van
(which is almost an improvement)
but as I turn my sense is assaulted again
by the gaudy red, white and blue livery
of burgerland.

I deliberately steer my haphazard course,
avoiding another stud-collared bull terrier
which "won't urt ya".

I see old worn out sports bags,
emblazoned with the names of football teams,
and wonder at their creation.

Amongst the copies of old children's books and annuals
are some I recognise from my own childhood
about ninety years ago.

And then finally, on the way out,
just past Harry The Lime's fruit and veg stall,
I trip over trays of seedlings
which pop through the soil of plastic pots
and I am thrilled with the hope of new life
struggling through compost.