“Call it intuition, call it a sixth sense, call it whatever you want - a true Saler can sniff a Garage Sale a mile off.”

As shopping centre car parks turn into cesspits of rage and Bacchic fury; as ordinarily well-mannered ladies transform into Props and Hookers deep in the maul, and as the local milk bar more closely resembles a mardi gras float than a purveyor of breakfast and news, throughout the Christmas-time madness there remains only one oasis (other than the pub).  

The Garage Sale. 

The Sunday just passed was a winning day. And though I too had a list of things to buy people, I ignored it and instead chose to go for a walk in my neighbourhood to check out the day (verdict = winning day). 

Overtaken by a force greater than the pull of a half-price sale at the new Westfield I eventually happened upon this absolute gem of a Garage Sale. Indeed one of the finest I have ever seen. 

I picked-up these two chairs for my friends to sit on, a couple of porcelain bunnies for the kids, a snorkel set for my brother and books for Mum and Dad. 

The experience was serene. The waste was minimal. 

It was a winning day. 

XO The Garage Gossip.