When it comes to junk-combing, I thought I had already sunk as low as I could ever go. Other people’s rubbish bins, construction sites, the side of the road – if there’s ‘stuff’, I’m there.
But yesterday I discovered a deeper level: driving a long way down the coastal road to collect my new driver’s license in Fish Hoek, I passed two guys pushing a trolley full of – well, who knows what exactly, I could just see STUFF. The promise of treasure, someone else’s cast-offs to be lovingly renovated and given a new lease of life. Something else to pack into the garage to ensure that I will never ever be able to get my car in.
These chaps may have been surprised to see a middle-aged woman in a Mini Cooper screech to a halt, leap out, rush over and excitedly inspect the contents of their junk haul, but they didn’t show it. Like professional hucksters, they had set a price on the two items I suddenly felt I couldn’t live without, got them into my car and roped them up so I didn’t get banged on the head as I turned corners, in less than 2 minutes. What a fix!
And here they are:
My two beautiful finds. My doors. Warped, broken glass, cracked, paint peeling, filthy, probably full of woodworm – aren’t they totally fabulous!? I have stashed them in a corner of my spare room for now, while I ponder on the possibilities.
To be continued…