junk apparently

There is a fantastic junk shop I know that sells pretty much anything everything. Heaps and piles of stuff. Some of it has been there for years and will probably never be bought. Three rooms piled so high with chairs that you can only just set foot inside. A mountain of broken telephones. Pianos sat on top of each other. China stacked so high you dare not touch them for fear they will come tumbling down.

When they ran out of space for goods in the shop, they spilled out into the outbuildings. When the outbuildings became full, they started stacking things in the yard! Isle after isle of tables with boxes on top and underneath.

It was at the very back of the furthest outbuilding, under a table in a dusty corner, that I found these Staffordshire Pottery cups caked in dirt. So black you could barely see the pattern and gorgeous colours. One pound later, they were mine! I washed them with a huge smile on my face. I love junk shops.