My tin sign says 'today' today

Week 1.  Post market recovery.  

Somewhere between breakfast and morning tea on day 1- hey, how about participating in a vintage and handmade market?  Frantic stocktake.  Finds stuff everywhere, even some unmounted drawings. Stuff in drawers, behind other things. In two weeks. Yeah, why not?

Note to self: think these things through.

Of course, being the maker and acquirer that I am, it doesn't take deep excavation to find more stock. 

So today was spent finding and making, framing and mounting prints and drawings.  With breaks for walking the hound and drinking tea on the veranda - although I actually gave up on the last cup because the ever-blasting wind blew leaves into my cup and had a good shot at blowing the biscuit off my plate.

Some steampunk airships are midway done.  More mounted chessmen - including one who shall be named 'chuck' because his base is partially the chuck from a drill which I found, with several other exciting bits, at the local salvage yard.(Along with a tin sign which says, rather concisely 'today'.)

There's considerable progress on a model of a boy in a boat, however it's proving quite complex and unlikely to be finished in time.  After last weekend my lounge room is bereft of adornment (to a point) and that one may stay with me for a while before I let it go.

In between: put more soil on the potatoes; planted more lettuces and Chandler strawberries; noted that the never-fail parsnips are living up to their name; idly pondered how one human being will possibly be able to consume that much rhubarb; basked in the (temporarily) tidy and comparatively minimalist lounge room; gave the Dyson (garage sale, of course) some new filters before a thorough workout; played with the puppy; slept late a couple of times; cruised the op shops, garage sales, tip shop and salvage yard; and continued to wonder why those men from the gas company are all over town digging holes in footpaths and verges, looking thoughtfully at them and then filling them in.

One could be forgiven for thinking that they don't know where anything is, but I was a bit worried when they dug the same hole in the neighbour's verge twice, two weeks apart.  What could have changed?  Or could they not recall what they saw the first time, what with all the excitement and all. Those pipes can be tricky if you don't keep an eye on them.

Now I have 30 Bad Alice bags to fold, label, bag and price so I can pack them into a vintage suitcase to take to market.

Raiders of the lost Perth tip shops

Sunset, West Coast

I've just returned, with a good friend and fellow treasure hunter, from a whirlwind tour of the tip shops in Perth - well, the metro area, anyway.  It was a most enjoyable, if hectic, couple of days, but I do have a critical observation to make.

Dear freeway drivers:  YOU ARE NOT INVISIBLE.  Picking your nose whilst driving at high speed is, to say the least, uncool.  The shiny tinted things in the doors and at the front are made of glass and others can see you.  Stop it, you disgusting little beasts.

Concern, South Coast

There. I feel much better. 

Now, to the business at hand:

It's not actually all that easy to work out where the tip shops are.  The main ones we found, after interweb research, a quick survey of Facebook friends and asking family were at Mindarie, Balcatta, and Cockburn.  Given the short timeframe and the kilometres involved, this was where we concentrated our efforts.

I would love to hear of others in WA, and how they measure up to the comparative shopper.

Coming out on top for us was Balcatta.  It had the disorganised hustle and bustle which suits the intrepid hunter and the eclectic and downright weird stuff which we like to see.  There was, literally, something for everyone and everyone was there, from the pearl and faux leopardskin Nedlands grande Dame to the man who stopped in the rain to tell me a joke. ('A man went to the doctor and said he thought he had water on the brain.  The doctor gave him a tap on the head and sent him home.') Hey, I was in the plumbing section and holding a brass tap. There was context.

It became apparent that there was unlikely to be anything of serious dollar value hidden there, as I saw when someone asked for a price on a pretty little plate only to have it (literaly) snatched from his hands to be sent off to be appraised.  As the person who worked there said, there would be 'no Antiques Roadshow moments' there.  I asked what happened post-appraisal but alas, there was no response. I was just interested to know - but maybe they didn't.

Things I left behind....

Still, there were lots of interesting things and the prices were good.  The parking and drop-off organisation was - well,  not there, really, and if you are going there just to buy you can save a lot of time by NOT following the signs and instead taking the 'commercial truck only' lane to the carpark (which is just inside the gates to the right as you enter). Otherwise, prepare to spend a lot of time tangled up in the people having their drop-offs peered at, while you watch others scuttle off with fabulous finds.

It takes time, patience and a sense of adventure but all in all a lot of fun and good stuff for $10.

Next was the Mindarie Regional Council operation at Tamala Park.  The organisation of parking and drop-off was excellent.  There was heaps of space and some nice stuff but I was surprised that there wasn't as much stock as I expected for a major regional operation.  There were heaps of people coming and going and so perhaps the turnover was really high.  The furniture items were pretty good but there weren't a lot of the smaller miscellaneous items, the crockery, glassware, books, etc.  Really, people, when the jigsaw puzzle spills out of the box it's a fair thing to sweep it up and get rid of it. Chances are that there are only 999 of the 1000 pieces which may ever find their way back into the box, especially after the first week or so. When several jigsaw puzzles have intermingled, it's OK to clean it up.

The furniture was marginally cheaper than Balcatta, but there wasn't as much of a range.  We'll certainly keep it on the list for next time.

We went to Cockburn on the way home, it's a fairly new looking arrangement and really hard to find, due to a complete lack of signage.

We finally gave up and followed a dump truck.

It was way more expensive than the others and the smallest in terms of stock.  Most of the prices were a tad on the high side even for a locality near the trendy opshops of Fremantle, but perhaps the locals are used to that.  The guys working there were friendly and helpful and they were the only ones who helped we dainty girls with bulky and heavy furniture. It's really, really organised and tidy, if you like that sort of thing.  Certainly worth a look if you're passing.

and things I COULDN'T leave behind....

Zombies, Darwinian selection and more jobs for lawyers

We went to the tip shops today - the local, City of Albany, and the slightly differently philosophised Denmark one.

At Denmark, it was all a-bustle, people dropping off things , chatting, fossicking, looking around. Fair enough, looks a bit tatty but their landfill doesn't seem to be bulging, and there are weird and wacky items which make you smile. (like this)

There were re-upholsterable chairs and couches, tables, cupboards, footstools, you name it, it's there.

At the City of Albany it's all lovely and tidy, because everything but books, shoes, crockery and apparently random chipboard furniture goes to landfill.  It's like a scene from the Walking Dead, with the ever hopeful few shuffling zombie-like around any vehicle which drives through, only to turn away disappointed and watch the seagulls welcome another deposit.

We pondered this at length as we watched a perfectly restorable club lounge chair make it's way straight to landfill.  The nice gentleman who was working patiently explained that there are serious liabilities for Cleanaway, who contract to provide the 'service' for the City.  If you buy a chair or couch or bed or cushion (or presumably any item which involves a porous surface) it may be infested with insects and you could sue.

Taking this to it's logical conclusion, one could say that if I get a papercut from one of the books I bought today, and the papercut becomes infected and my finger falls off, then I have a case for compensation.  If I buy a plate and drop it getting it out of the car and cut myself picking up the pieces - woohoo, new holiday home for me.  Presumably, any timber is expected to be infested with white ants/woodworm and other passing bugs which may leap off and chew my head off, rusty nails on which I may impale myself, or homicidal splinters.  The shoes which are for sale - surely they are a podiatric disaster waiting to happen.  It's a long and lingering death from blisters or bunions.

I can understand the case regarding electrical things.  Not so long ago, I was listening to a man at the Denmark tip shop dealing with an unhappy customer who complained that he had bought 4 computers from the tip shop (for a couple of dollars each) but none of them worked.  As the representative of local government in the area explained, '...it's a tip shop, mate, people don't bring 'em here if they work.'  The apparently eternally optimistic customer kept on looking.  He did not appear to be accompanied by his legal team.

Today, in Denmark, I bought a BGE electric bar heater, age unknown but probably pre 1950's.  It looks all stainless steel and minimalist chrome and space agey and I was assured it still worked, although the person who brought it in didn't want to use it any more.  Certainly, it would have zero by way of energy stars, and in terms of Australian standards, it could be considered lacking.  It would be fair to say that running on full heat it would be a random mass of red hot metal and throbbing completely exposed radiator bars.  Never mind not sticking your fingers in, your whole head would fit.  Items nearby would spontaneously combust.

It's true, the local authority could have wrestled it from me, wrenched it from my fevered grip and consigned it to become some archaeologist's future delight.  In fact, they had the good sense to know that I would not be buying it for use in it's designated field, but rather for display.  They divined, on short acquaintance, that it was unlikely that I test power points with my tongue and/or a sharp metal object and that I can be trusted with such an item. Frankly, if I did use it and it went horribly wrong, I'd put it down to Darwinian selection and call it a fair thing.

If you can put up a sign saying don't fall off the cliff into the water, how about one about purchasing at your own risk?

Our pondering concluded that the Albany tip shop probably doesn't show much profit, because there simply isn't the stock turnover to generate one, because there's hardly any stock.  People are paid to open the shop and collect the meagre 'allowed' consigned goods, and wave the rest through to holes in the ground (various). (And the Saturday guy is improving his golf swing, by the looks). Presumably, the shop is therefore costing the ratepayers double - they have to pay to dump their stuff in landfill AND pay for the relentlessly tidy shop to stay open so they can drive through.

It's not really a recycling service, because very little actually gets recycled beside cardboard and glass.  The rather specious argument regarding liability is apparently ignored by local authorities in major cities and towns all over Australia, which have thriving recycling and re-use via their well run and well patronised tip shops.

Presumably the education centre (who paid for that?) is used to brief solicitors and silks, or possibly archaeologists. Or it's used for plotting the location of the next big landfill project...