Verging on the ridiculous

At a time when I should be slaving away on the actual Summer Street Fair, I am distracted by the desperate need to go out and trawl the verges. Tragic, I know, but I remain obsessed by stuff piled on the verge.

I was almost traumatised earlier in the week by this post on my friend Adele's blog.

The thought of all that stuff out there. Me, trapped at work. People telling me about the fabulous stuff seen but not picked up...AAAARGH.

This week we explored Lower King (due to be collected) where amongst many treasures, we stopped for a break to soak up the serenity while pondering Albany's systematic disenfranchisement of non-boat-owners.

Disenfranchised, perhaps, but still able to spot something interesting in a pile of random rubbish. Great excitement when we worked out how to fold the Pajero seats completely out of the way.

We did spend considerable time considering the small boat/canoe that was looking for a new home. It just wouldn't fit in the car. But we did collect some treasure...

A metal flower garden fripperie.

No, I don't know what it is. But I like it.


The veggie garden is going well, by the way.

A suitcase, some strange plaster feet. A huge insulator.


Yes. A hat box. A genuine made in WA hatbox. The catch was a bit rusty, a drop of oil and inside....

a bunch of 50's and 60's hats.

From a skip, a vintage microphone, still in it's original box, a charge book from a police station (not completed and set up for pre-computer days), a lovely old book of pipe music.

But its back to getting ready for the Summer Street market - somewhere under all this stuff is a house.