I guess there’s something in a shop that sells cigarette cards, Russian sabers and everything in between for all levels of peculiarity. And as a result is we get more than our fair share of oddness.
When it happens, I’ll share it, before this world of Facebook and Twitter scare away eccentricity for good, though that could just be the rain? Eccentrics hate rain. Also judging by other antique dealers, it’s possible that I’ll be sanitised to the madness within a decade; existing in a cosy land of tweed blazers and bow ties.
The other day, Rob and I were speculating over what horn a walking stick was made from. Commenting on its ivory inlay, an old chap of around 60 appeared, peeking his head around the corner. Continue reading