Turps and time…
Especially in the Aussie bush.
It’s social.
It’s hectic.
It’s competitive.
And (when you are catering for the hordes of bargain hunters) it’s busy. Real busy.
The one my son’s school’s P&C catered for recently was very popular. The property that had been sold is pretty iconic and had been in the same family for a very long time. And there was stuff there many decades old. Stuff that people who collect old stuff dream about. And it’s a beautiful place. So plenty of locals who were curious came too. Hundreds of them.
…
And I was so busy, I didn’t even take any photos.
And if you know me, if you have observed anything in this blog, this fact alone illustrates my point. Cause I always take photos.
…
I didn’t even have time to look at the old stuff. I (along with a few other mums and dads who were also wondering what they’d got themselves into) fed people for about five hours. And wrote them out raffle tickets. Then fed them again. It must burn energy all that bargain hunting.
So I didn’t get to do any fossicking myself. Instead my Dad, who is a deeply practical man who loves a good bargain more than is healthy, did something lovely.
He went and bought me something old. Something without any real useful purpose. Something he would normally call a “dust collector”. Here it is:
I was gobsmacked. I love old stuff. Really. But I’m not a collector as such. I just love the sense of history and “rootedness” (I am aware this is not a word, and sounds slightly off, but you get my drift) that old stuff gives off.
And this old Turpentine tin gives it off in spades.
It’s all lovely and rusty, and it’s label is clearly not of today’s “in your face” labelling designs.
I have no clue what I will do with it.
But I love it.
‘Cause it’s old.
And ’cause my Dad thought to buy it for me.
Groovy, hey?
7 Comments
debby
My dad was a gruff coot and was not fond of girls. I still have the book that he bought for me when I joined the Army.
I’m also shocked that you used the word ‘gobsmacked’. I’ve only heard one person say that in my life. Is that a common word in your neck o’ the woods?
jeanie
lol and tears too – I think I know the man and then he does something like that!
So, taken any photos of “old broken down windmills” lately to ruffle his feathers?
alice
I love that tin. It’s the sort of thing that I would not buy myself but would love someone to buy it for me, showing they understand my passion for yesteryear.
Good on you, Dad.
Bush Babe (of Granite Glen)
Deb – what was the book? Dare I ask?? And “gobsmacked”… well I use it on rare occasions – it’s not really common, but not unheard of in these parts. It’s one of those great old-fashioned words that really covers the drama of the moment. My jaw nearly hit the ground – gobsmacked. I might use it some more, just to shock you!
Jeanie – the moment didn’t hit me like that (emotionally) but writing it did. Glad I “gotcha”! I will continue to photograph old things (not to stir him but cause I love ’em)… ruffling feathers is just a bonus!
Alice – I love what that tin symbolises. Of course, he would possibly be horrified at all this being read into one gesture. He just thought I’d like it, and he had fun buying it. Auctions always get his blood pumpin’.
🙂
BB
Andrea
I love it!! What fun old stuff! It must have been super busy with only one photo!! Your Dad was sweet to buy you it!!!
debby
It was Walden’s Pond, by Thoreau. We were someplace and I saw it on the clearance table (yes, even then…) I was walking to the checkout, and he just took it from me and bought it for me, handed me the bag outside the store and said, “Here’s your book.”
Bush Babe (of Granite Glen)
Ah Deb. I know gruff coots. But that’s bloody dry! I s’pose he tried… some points there. We’re still knocking the rough corners off our version. He complains like crazy, but he’s still sticking around.
Andrea. No photos that day… I couldn’t focus after our mega catering effort!! This one was taken the next day, after I realised what he had done. He just left it on the back landing for me – it’s photographed with our stone fireplace in the background – right where he left it.