On the ground in the wild north of England. After sleeping like the dead for about ten hours we got up and started getting organized.
High on the list was an expedition to the Hexham Car Boot Sale. A "boot" in this context means the trunk of your car, but practically speaking this is a big ol' flea market. Just the place to pick up an extra jacket and a book or two at bargain prices. Things that can be left behind at the end of the trip. And of course it is a cultural experience. I go there to understand the UK. Sometimes it just raises more questions....
A disturbing unicorn in nappies.
Some sort of ape. Boot sales have a lot of stuff that came there from overseas. Some in times of Empire, some on more recent holidays.
One that got away. My wife and I both thought that a "Windy Knickers" game sounded interesting. But I said we did not have cargo space to take such nonsense home. We walked on, but realized in a minute or two that it could be inflicted on one of my digging friends. Alas, we went back and it had been snatched up.
As the old saying goes. US and UK. Two nations divided by a common languages...
The boot sale can either be held in open air or, when the weather is moist, inside the big building used for sheep and cattle sales. There are stalls. Literal stalls. And sawdust on the floor.
Don't know. Don't want to know. The Rainbow beanie makes me wonder about this one.
Perhaps poor Boris is about to launch another career.
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