Would I really do a thing like that?

Last Friday we pitched-up at a brocante in the lovely town of Meschers-sur-Gironde just south of the glamorous resort of Royan.  We had taken a bit of a risk as we had had to pay in advance for this particular market and as lovely as the weather in the Charente Maritime can be (at least compared to the UK) there really are no guarantees in November.  

We left home at the crack of dawn so that we could find a good pitch (yes I know we'd already booked but that doesn't mean they mark out a particular place for you!) and the weather was thankfully dry when an hour or so later and still bleary eyed we arrived.  The lucky sun however was still firmly tucked up in bed and was to make but a few brief appearances over the duration of the day.  

We congratulated ourselves when we got a great pitch with plenty of room for our old Renault Master van and decided to tuck into a celebratory pain au chocolat before unloading.  We noted that we were within spitting distance of the dealer who had recommended this particular collectors fair to us a couple of weeks previously which conveniently meant that he would be an easy target to kick in the shins later if the fair turned out to be rubbish.

For November, considering the cold breeze blasting down the road and the fact that many of the second home owners and holiday makers had left, we didn't have a bad day of takings at all (Monsieur Le Brocanteur's shins therefore remained intact!).

We sold a few bits of furniture, a lovely pair of opera glasses that I had been coveting (boo hoo!) and a good quantity of my lovely vintage jewellery.  I love selling the jewellery in particular as it always leaves me with a warm glow as I watch customers happily wander off on their way with their purchases.  

The warm glow, however, was to be short-lived as a few drops of rain started to fall on the stall.  Being made of steely stuff we wimped out at about 3pm after Spike had managed to scout out an escape route for the van through the crowds.  I think it's that time of year when it's best to admit defeat and start doing the markets again in the Spring!  

As I packed everything up for the umpteenth time this year I stopped to admire a wonderful vintage mirrored photo frame that I acquired recently from a market in Cognac.  I had made a decision that to demonstrate the frame to it's full loveliness I would put in a fabulous picture of my grandmother (sadly I never knew her as she died just days after I was born) that had been taken in a photographer's studio in the 1920's.

I was busy debating with myself whether to pop it on the front seat of the van and keep it for myself (so much of my stock makes detours into our home - some of them permanent... oops!) when it dawned on me that I was actually trying to sell my own Grandmother!

How low I have stooped to scrape a living!

All this aside I am going to brave one more market in mid December in the historical town of Angôuleme. It's just a little flea market and there will hopefully be some sophisticates who are looking for original Christmas presents for their loved ones (I know I would prefer something original of quality rather than mass produced rubbish... someone take that soapbox away from her!!!).  I do hope that Santa (aka Spike reads this!)

Apart from that I am going to dig in for the winter and sell some of my trucs on various sites on the internet. In fact I've spent a good part of the day grappling with French Ebay along with some local websites to sell some furniture that has been lovingly painted by moi.  

I am looking forward to sharing with you some of these painted pieces of furniture another time along with some of the goodies that have been surreptitiously liberated from my stall over the course of the year!

C'est Pollux!!!

Last week I went out to chiner (wonderful French verb meaning to hunt for antiques/second hand curios etc.) with my husband, Spike (nickname... real name Mark).  We were searching for mirrors, lights and other decorative items to top-up the stock on my stall in readiness for an important brocante coming up on the bank holiday of All Saints' Day in Meschers sur Gironde (update on that coming soon!).

As we wandered around looking for items of interests we spotted across the room a battered old wooden box with the image of Dougal and Florence from the Magic Roundabout on the front. Both being children of the seventies we rushed over, brimming with nostalgia, to investigate.  The box contained sand-filled cubes which could be made into six different pictures and although not my usual kind of truc I couldn't resist the pull of that old sugar-lump eating pooch.  After a little discussion we both decided we loved it and happily proceeded to the checkout to pay.

There was a kindly faced old man at the till who first looked down at the box then looked up at me and staring directly into my eyes said in a very matter of fact way "Pollux!".   Well really... even though I could appreciate that it wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea I did think that was a bit strong.  It took a moment to sink in as he explained that Pollux was in fact the name for dear old Dougal in France.    

I already knew that The Magic Roundabout or as it's known in these parts Le Manège Enchanté was originally a French creation but I had no idea until now that their Pollux has an outrageous British accent and speaks in broken French.

I won't go into all the French names for the characters we know and love but I have to confess that I was a bit disappointed that Dylan the rabbit is known in France as Flappy!   I have also got to say that I found the recent film version a bit of a let down as the Dougal that I remember from my childhood not only spoke with a cut-glass accent but was also an incredibly snooty, self-righteous canine indeed.  

At home we have a beagle called Oscar that we have noticed often assumes the same high-brow expression as Dougal (especially when ensconced in his very own leather armchair by the fire).  At times there really is a little of the 'Noel Coward' about him and I can imagine him sitting by the fire wearing a cravat whilst effortlessly throwing out witty asides (note to self.... must get out more!)

Anyway, I appear to have digressed more than a little but have truly enjoyed this little foray into the recent(ish!) past but with all things said and done, and as much as I love dear dear Dougal, my heart will always truly lie with Bagpuss!

    

C'est mon truc!

It's my kind of thing!

I recently acquired this elegant little camera shaped compact. This petit truc from the beginning of the 1950's is a hard working little treasure with not only a powder compact, mirror, lipstick, and cigarette case but also a fabulous little musical movement that jauntily plays the theme tune from the classic film noir 'The Third Man'.  

Visions of Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly filled my imagination when I first investigated the virtues of this fascinating object from a bygone age.  

Sadly at some point someone will fall in love with it as much I have and carry it away with them.  Parting with objects such as this one is always a bitter-sweet moment in the life of a brocanteuse but knowing it will go to a good home and will be treasured makes it all worthwhile.  

The hunt for that elusive 'truc'

truc1 [tryk] nm Fam (chose) thing, thingumajig, thingummy, thingy

Truc is one of my favourite words in the French language and can be extremely useful if you don’t know the word for something or in many cases in the world of antiques what it's for.  My market stall is full of wonderful ‘trucs’ and I look forward to sharing some of my finds with you during my quest for those eclectic, elusive and as yet unknown ‘things’.