Flindt on The auctioneer, his wife and Crap Sale tales friday

Flindt on The auctioneer, his wife and Crap Sale tales friday

This September’s western Meon Hut Rural Auction – or, so it can have its name that is correct Sale – ended up being a celebration of considerable sadness for me personally.

It must have now been the right time: the farm ended up being too damp to complete any agriculture, it a pressure wash and a hint of grease, and trundling down to the auction field so we had a jolly few days digging crap out of the bushes, giving.

The stayed dry, and the burgers and coffee were top-notch saturday. The punters were in and purchasing – the automobile park had been chock packed with Transit vans that on some other of the year would have had you reaching for your phone day. Just what exactly was incorrect?

Well, to begin with, Tom, the mind auctioneer, had forgotten our contract.

Earlier into the day into the he’d demanded to know why we didn’t make more use of his Crap Sale year.

We ummed and aahed about needing to clamber through brambles and having drenched and it is it actually well well worth it – most of the stuff that is usual.

If I entered half-a-dozen items, he’d do the auction in his morning suit and top hat that he’d been spotted wearing in the winner’s enclosure at Ascot so it was suggested (after a pint or two) that.

We took it further; what about We enter a dozen things, while the lovely Mrs Tom waves the purchase clipboard in her own fabulous Ascot frock? Agreed.

Therefore because of enough time most of the old clay pigeon traps, classic scales, roller mills and square-wheeled trailers managed to get down the Crap purchase industry, I’d done my bit.

Guarantees broken

Even as we hitched from the final little bit of dodgy kit in the Friday, we asked Tom what he’d be putting on each day. He stated he previously a coat that is good it rained.

We carefully reminded him of y our contract. He rushed down across the industry in a harrumphing flurry of purchase stickers and obscenities.

As expected, come Saturday, our bet have been abandoned – he had been in conventional Crap purchase garb.

The lovely Mrs Tom, disappointingly free from Gucci, stated she’d presented a suit and a tie it had made it no further than the end of the bed for him, but.

And I also had my digital digital camera prepared and every thing.

The prices that are great little to cheer me up. The Vibraflex that is 10ft reached it should have cost https://realmailorderbrides.com/russian-brides Dad right right back into the very early 1980s (there’s one for the accountant to work through), as well as its times of attaining a much better cost on new kit in the event that dealer didn’t need to simply take it as being a trade-in had been finally over.

Junk junkie

Once the heavyweight vintage scales went for peanuts, there clearly was a ghostly tutting from Hinton Ampner churchyard.

We occurred to stay in the queue that is wash-up the sturdy gentleman that has purchased the scales (now nicely loaded on their transportation pickup), and bored him with tales of long wintertime days weighing down beans, 1 cwt at the same time, on the market to pigeon fanciers.

“Don’t worry” he said. “They’ll result in someone’s yard, precious, by having a pot that is big of on it.” Bless. I didn’t dare ask just exactly exactly what he’d offer them on for.

The next early early morning, I collared Tom again, and told him how disappointed I was as I retrieved the Massey 715 4f plough that had inexplicably failed to sell.

He mumbled about little ploughs being difficult to shift often. “No, Tom. I am talking about our contract.”

“Next 12 months, Charlie, we promise,” he stated. Difficulty is, I’m nearly away from crap. I’ve got the plough, needless to say. And there’s a Lancaster bomb trailer someplace.

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