Yesterday morning I emailed Georgia about tatting stuff and personal things. At the very end of the email I said the following.
"Well, time for a trip to the car boot market. Just for eggs - there's rarely anything interesting to find!!!"
The car boot market is held each Saturday on a bit of waste land at the end of our road. A car boot market is similar to garage sales or neighbourhood sales. People come along to a given place with a stack of stuff they don't want, open the boot (trunk) of their car, put out a table and the stuff from their boot goes onto the table. Good way to get rid of stuff you don't want!!!
I normally go up to the market for eggs and vegetables cause a man sells them from his small holding. Yesterday the local hospice had a 'pitch' too and I was dozing past there when I saw the two doilies at the end of this post. I started looking at them and the lady told me they were crochet. Sorry, says I, they're not crochet - they've been tatted. Out come my shuttles and thread, which I happened to have with me, and on a very cold morning and only half awake I showed the lady how the mats were made.
Well I couldn't leave them there. Unloved, unappreciated. I told her that I didn't want or need them but that they needed liberating. So, for the princely sum of a whole round pound they came home with me.
The car boot market is held each Saturday on a bit of waste land at the end of our road. A car boot market is similar to garage sales or neighbourhood sales. People come along to a given place with a stack of stuff they don't want, open the boot (trunk) of their car, put out a table and the stuff from their boot goes onto the table. Good way to get rid of stuff you don't want!!!
I normally go up to the market for eggs and vegetables cause a man sells them from his small holding. Yesterday the local hospice had a 'pitch' too and I was dozing past there when I saw the two doilies at the end of this post. I started looking at them and the lady told me they were crochet. Sorry, says I, they're not crochet - they've been tatted. Out come my shuttles and thread, which I happened to have with me, and on a very cold morning and only half awake I showed the lady how the mats were made.
Well I couldn't leave them there. Unloved, unappreciated. I told her that I didn't want or need them but that they needed liberating. So, for the princely sum of a whole round pound they came home with me.