The Blanket Box

Last weekend was a long weekend.
Have to love a long weekend.

At this point I choose not to discuss the comparative merits of a March or May long weekend…

Anyway, with an extra day we decided to head down to Strathalbyn for a leisurely Sunday.

Some point during the day I realised we have become an middle aged couple.
We spent several hours in antique stores looking at old furniture and bric-a-brac.
I know the word bric-a-brac from years of watching my parents excitement at finding bric-a-brac stores in all the little country towns we visited.

I tried to put the parallels out of my mind and enjoy all the stuff.

We stopped for lunch at a really nice cafe (I had a particularly good steak sandwich) before heading back out into the heat.

After stumbling across a huge shop with years of accumulated furniture, homewares, tools and piles of assorted rubbish. The aisles were almost non-existent.
If you could deal with the claustrophobia there were a few nice pieces, but I am not sure how you could get any of them out of the store.

We actually found a gorgeous blanket box outside storing bags of wool.




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