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I managed to get in a couple of hours at some booters yesterday and I came away with quite a good haul (I also invented a new rule in the Hammond Gold game... they have to cost 50p or less ...
so that's three to me, then).
But there was this one crate that I spotted just as I was leaving ... and in it there was: Tighten Up volumes 1 to 4, 3 of which were in excellent condition; some budget label reggae covers albums that looked worth a punt; and "Spoonful of Soul" by Jimmy Witherspoon.
The woman on the pitch watched as I looked through the crate, selected the records, checked the conditions, and when I stood up to pay she said "I've decided not to sell them".
Apparently she now wanted to listen to them. I suspect that she has spent the last couple of decades doing exactly the opposite. She had been on the phone as I arrived and the conversation was clearly about music (& I think value, with Frank Sinatra being flagged as a big money spinner), but she waited until I had finished looking and checking before she withdrew them from sale. Maybe she was hoping I'd finger the valuable ones (and yet I left all the Frank in it's place).
I suppose I have some sympathy with her, because I find it hard to part with music. But then, I don't offer it for sale before deciding to keep it.
Anyway, the result is a bit like the fiver on a fishing line practical joke: You see something you want, you think it's yours and then it's snatched away.
This has happened to me once before. The only time I found a Happy Monsters, the guy said "Oh yeah, that one's not for sale". Fortunately a charitable vulture supplied me with a copy soon afterwards.
Still, my girlfriend managed to find me a melodica, so I can take out my frustration on Augustus Pablo.
so that's three to me, then).
But there was this one crate that I spotted just as I was leaving ... and in it there was: Tighten Up volumes 1 to 4, 3 of which were in excellent condition; some budget label reggae covers albums that looked worth a punt; and "Spoonful of Soul" by Jimmy Witherspoon.
The woman on the pitch watched as I looked through the crate, selected the records, checked the conditions, and when I stood up to pay she said "I've decided not to sell them".
Apparently she now wanted to listen to them. I suspect that she has spent the last couple of decades doing exactly the opposite. She had been on the phone as I arrived and the conversation was clearly about music (& I think value, with Frank Sinatra being flagged as a big money spinner), but she waited until I had finished looking and checking before she withdrew them from sale. Maybe she was hoping I'd finger the valuable ones (and yet I left all the Frank in it's place).
I suppose I have some sympathy with her, because I find it hard to part with music. But then, I don't offer it for sale before deciding to keep it.
Anyway, the result is a bit like the fiver on a fishing line practical joke: You see something you want, you think it's yours and then it's snatched away.
This has happened to me once before. The only time I found a Happy Monsters, the guy said "Oh yeah, that one's not for sale". Fortunately a charitable vulture supplied me with a copy soon afterwards.
Still, my girlfriend managed to find me a melodica, so I can take out my frustration on Augustus Pablo.
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