Ups and downs are a bit of an occupational hazard of thrifting.

Some days, you go out without expectation and come home with an absolute peach. Other days, you go on a determined hunt, and come home downhearted and empty-handed.

I thought yesterday was going to be the latter, right up to the very last shop.

Lad had an inset day at school. We had sat in for much of the morning whilst the sun shone and a nice man from our TV and broadband provider upgraded our internet service (a welcome by-product of my partner’s desire to watch even more tedious football on television).

I thought a quick scoot, a deli sandwich and a spot of thrifting would make a nice change for both lad and I.

And it was indeed very pleasant to take the downhill path through the park to Sherwood, eat cake outside Kiosk, and browse craft books at the library.

But the thrifting was, frankly, pants.

Lad has, alas, outgrown the allure of boxes of toy cars and broken plastic toys. So he huffed and puffed a bit, as I picked disconsolately through the utter chaff of other people’s discards.

There were some nice Hornsea jars, but they were of the brown variety and rather expensive, so I left them be.

My extended rummage through smelly polyester sheets, threadbare old towels and endless Primark cast-offs was only saved from the pit of despond at the last possible moment.

In the very last shop, a set of six pretty printed vintage napkins and a pair of lovely, soft, mustard-yellow gingham curtains emerged, against all odds, from the charity shop abyss.

The sun shone on the way home and a warm feeling ensued.

Definitely a good way to end the week. ♥