Saturday, October 27, 2007

'Kids! Dinner's on the... floor.'

One of my brief child-free excursions this week led me to 'BrockenMaus', which I guess is a play on 'Brockenhaus', the term used for a second-hand store.

BrockenMaus is housed in an old, very Swiss house near the train station which is further up The Hill and closer to our house than the main station (which is down by the lake).

It is pretty ramshackle as houses go, with 3 storeys, rickety old stairs and four saucepans on the floor of the attic to catch the water. It is wall-to-wall trash and treasure... and filled with cigarette smoke of course, thanks to the guy who runs it (who incidentally speaks about one word of English, is very tall, tanned and somewhat portly, with a number 2 buzz-cut and powder-pink Gucci-framed reading glasses).

The collector in me resisted buying a Bee Gees record, a wood-saw , a snowboard, a cuckoo clock and a Hello Kitty denim wallet, and I headed upstairs to the furniture to see if they had a table.

In the attic there were quite a few tables, but none of them was in very good shape except one to which I'd seen an equivalent in IKEA. I enquired (rather cleverly in German I thought), only to discover that it was rather more expensive than its Swedish counterpart. Not only that, but a bed I looked at, which was your basic cheap-as-chips metal frame with old slats, was more expensive again.

Truly: what is to become of the world when second-hand furniture is more expensive than new?

(By the way, I promise I will get a proper picture of the OGT soon so you can see how orange it really is.)

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