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).
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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