rage at the car boot
I saw this bunch of pro-wrestlers at a car boot in Norfolk, so thought I’d take their picture. But the photo I should have taken was nearby, where one Barbie was lying on top of a crate full of naked and semi-naked Action Men. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘she’s having fun,’ I said. ‘There’s thirteen of them men in there,’ the seller told me, with a wink.
Items I ended up buying: a log-splitting wedge, a jar of gooseberry jam, George Harrison’s The Concert for Bangla Desh, on vinyl, and the worst pickled shallots I’ve ever tasted.
