... the frail old girls carve through the crowd.
Jumble sales in deepest Kent are battlegrounds for bargains.
Shrinking violet me, with only a nodding acquaintance of the rules of engagement, tend not to find my way onto the battlefield.
Call me brave, foolhardy even, the blood lust stirred in my veins.
My dulcet tones reverberated around our sleepy village...
I even queued!
Portmeirion Totem storage jars my spoils of battle.
Staggering down the hill, with retro bounty clasped to my ample bosom I fell in the door and demanded the old boy pour me a Port and Lemon.
As the dust settled I thought ...
"Hang on a minute Lindy Lou, you didn't even like them the first time round"