I woke up this morning thinking I might tootle off round the charity shops of North London and do my very own take on the £10 challenge.
I made the coffee, bought a couple of croissants at the Costcutter's over the road and grabbed the paper. Waking up Mrs. JJ I then had the following conversation:
Me: There's this thing on Vulture about spending a tenner round charity shops and documenting it all and writing it up for the site.
Her: That's a great idea, that. Because it's not like you have piles of records lying around that you keep promising to sell - or those bloody posters from the ICA thing that you still haven't got rid of, is it?
Me: You may have a point there, but this would be fun.
Her: And you've been moaning all week that you don't have enough to get all your writing on the book done as well, so of course you've got loads of time to write up how you bought some useless records that will sit on the 'one day I may or may not manage to offload these' piles that're swallowing up the front room floor.
Me: Well, yeah, I do kind of know what you mean, but . . .
At that moment, the postman knocked on the door, bringing three new LPs.
This proved to be the nail in the coffin.
I suspect this is for the greater good.


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