This is a new dance I have recently discovered. It involves strong toes, sharp elbows and a iron will. It may occasionally call for the participant to forget how to smell, be polite and have regard for small children.
Variations of the Jumble Boogie are also known as The Yard Sale Stomp, The Thrift Stall Swing, The Car Boot Hop or the Estate Sale Jive.
I recently attended my first proper Jumble Sale as a grown up. I don't know how I have missed so many of these in my adult life, really, I don't. The last one I remember was when I was about 7 and "Blue Peter" were raising money for something or other in the form of a "Bring & Buy Sale". I remember the excitement. The smell of unwashed plastic toys.The treasure before me that was too much to bear. I had a whole golden pound in my sweaty palm and I blew the lot on a rabid Sindy and her mangy horse. Oh. Those were the days.
Circa 1987. Dear Lord. Is that a shell suit puffa jacket??
My tastes are more refined nowadays. It's all about the cups, plates, jars, vases, teapots and clothing I might find. And the sale I queued 45 - yes, four five - minutes for on a sunny Saturday afternoon had all of the above in spades. Thus follows shamefully happy pictures of my trove. Inflation has hit hard since the late 80's, but still... for under £10, I am not complaining. The flea bitten toys were still there, being bought by children who evidently felt that they had found the address of Lord Lucan.
Here follows pictures. Pictures which show, to my amused embarrassment, my subliminal love of roses.
This little milk jug is currently home to a dying spider plant.
This now contains some cat grass. Which is lovingly nommed by the Mempf
I have no idea how old this is, but, ooooh I love it so. Not for use. Just for gazing at.
Some more, much needed you understand, Depression Glass. In amber. Oooooh purty!
More things I have no need of. Except as a pen pot at work... and maybe something to keep paperclips in.
I also nabbed some clothes - 12 items for the princely sum of £2.80. Don't mind if I do! I then made the fatal mistake of pottering about the charity shops. If you feel that the prices are on the up in your local chazza establishment, this shall only be mortally compounded if you visit some after a whizz round your local church hall.
I realise now, that much practice is needed on a floor where expert dancers are reveling in the Jumble Boogie. I need to refrain from being British and apologising. I was shoved out of the way on more than one occasion. I have to understand that if you look weak, you shall be trampled in favor of a jumper for 30p.
I must learn to station The Beard (who looked like a hedgehog in the outside lane of the M25) a safe distance away so I can leave items with him and return to the dance refreshed and unladen with clothes. I noted the seamless movements of the students that were there and shall follow suit. This consisted of a massive tote bag at their feet, into which they were shoveling anything that took their fancy. They then retreated into a corner to pick the items they wanted and threw (literally) the rest back into the melee. They are wise. I shall learn their wisdom.
But, my first furore into the whirling dervish of second, possibly eighth, hand goods for sale in a overcrowded church hall has not scared me away. I am avidly hunting out the next one in my area.
Now... I just need to decide how much I like my toes, sharpen my elbows, lose the "no.. after you.. I insist's" and come to terms with the idea of pushing an old lady over for a lovely looking teacup....
Jumble Boogie rocks!