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Friday, 23 January 2015

Junk Yard heaven.

When visitors come to stay there's always that excitement of playing tourist in your own backyard. My pineapple-loving friend loves fossicking for treasures amongst junk. The Salvos. Vinnies. Op shops. Shopping heaven for her … and, I must admit, she has converted me too. So, on her latest visit, I knew exactly where to take her … The Junk Yard. 


I'd heard about it from my coffee-companion, but had never been. So, it was an adventure into the unknown for all of us. Pineapple-loving friend, brother, niece, me. I had a lot of visitors last weekend.

And, what an adventure.

It was hot, 30 plus degrees, sunny, glary, steamy. All those things that scream, "Don't stay out in the sun too long." But … when faced with this




and this


and this


and this


and this,


we sort of lost track of time.

What an amazing place!

Junk everywhere! 

Out in the open. In sheds. In buses. On tables. Under tables. In bins. Stacked sky high.

Junk.




The King made an appearance.


Though he was very quiet.

There was junk art.


Junk in baths.


And quirky signs with even quirkier punctuation, that only junk yards have.


If you're into fossicking for treasures, this is your place.

I know for some of you this would be hell. And that's okay. But, a lot of you will be asking, "Where is this place? How do I get there? Now!"

Read this sign first.


Visit this website.

So, now you have the address, the hours of opening, what are you waiting for? Hit the road. 

I hope to see you there.

I know I'll be going back.

Regularly.

"Oh," you ask. "What did you buy?"

These.


A Fraser kitchen step stool, like I remember from my childhood. A set of unhappy scales … see that sad face? And another rolling pin to add to my collection. 

Junk? 

No way. 

Treasures? 

Definitely.