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It's a Jumble Out There


Ah, the parish hall jumble sale. I think that these are becoming much less common nowadays, with the proliferation of charity shops. Now, we just dump our unwanted items in a black sack and drop them off the next day at the most convenient charity outlet. Before the High Street second hand boom, we were subject to periodic pleas from the local church or WI for our unwanted items and we had a deliberate sort out. Donations could be depended upon because we were much less ready to throw things out on a whim. Mind you, a lot of what came in for the jumble sale was bought last time around, never used and sent back.

The sales could get rowdy because this was a great opportunity to pick up that very thing that you had been coveting from your neighbour for the past 12 months. You might have seen that coat or hat boxed up and ready to go, or perhaps they might have told you that they had decided to donate it…perhaps you were one of the lucky ones with access to the hall and had seen the donation piles ready for setting out on tables.

I remember once in the early 1990s running a stall at a school jumble sale, when I was just starting out in the charitable world. There was a picture – a lovely framed print of an old advertisement for mustard, featuring little piggies having a bath. Being young and innocent and liking the picture very much, I put a couple of pounds in the tin and the picture in my bag. Other people running stalls knew and didn’t mind – it doesn’t matter where the money comes from after all, and it could perhaps be classed as one of the perks of being a volunteer. Well anyway, the sale opened and in the parents came to browse the stalls. A pair of mothers sidled up to me…
“Where’s that picture with the pigs?”
“Oh, it’s been sold already!” I told them, truthfully, almost.
“Already! Who’s had it?!”
“Erm…I can’t remember, it went very quickly…” I muttered, desperately hoping for a sudden rush at my stall that didn’t come.
The mothers narrowed their eyes at me…”I know who gave that picture and I wanted it.”
“Sorry…it’s gone.” I stood my ground…nervously…this was a rough part of Sheffield…they probably knew people if they fancied a bit of revenge. Half of the kids in the school knew someone in prison.
They went, muttering under their breath…and I learned my first lesson about running a jumble sale. Leave it, it's not worth it.

I’ve still got that picture. It hangs by my kettle. You see I have given it a loving home for life. They would have probably sent it back next year.

All this reminiscing has been sparked off by my reading this wonderful book -



Extract from ‘Excellent Women’ by Barbara Pym (1952)

“The sale was being held in the parish hall, a bare room with green painted walls…a billiard table, a darts board and other harmless amusements of the boys’ club stood at one end of the hall. Behind the hatch near the door Miss Enders, Miss Statham and my Mrs Morris…were busy with the tea urns.

At that moment, Julian, watch in hand, ordered the doors to be opened. The surging crowd outside was kept in check by Teddy Lemon and his supporters, while Julian took the three-pences for admission; but once past him they rushed for the stalls.

‘Talk about landing on the Normandy Beaches’ said Sister Blatt ‘some of our jumble sale crowd would make splendid Commandos.’

The next few minutes needed great concentration and firmness. I collected money, gave change and tried at the same time to rearrange the tumbled garments, settle arguments and prevent the elderly from being injured in the crush."

She’s not exaggerating you know.

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