The Junk Shop

I am pleased to say that The Junk Shop is exactly what it says it is – and has been, I suspect, since The Ark. It’s exactly like junk shops should be – dusty, cluttered, slightly unsafe (I stepped down from the upper area and missed the mat, nearly going flying – more embarrassing than painful) and full of stuff that you can never work out will be useful to anyone – but for someone, somewhere, it will be the find of a lifetime. Outside, it looks like something out of one of those postcards of “Old Greenwich” – stuff hung up other stuff stacked up on the pavement. Inside the general feeling of chaos is compounded by a couple of slightly out of control pot plants, including a very elderly rubber plant high up on top of what looks like a standard lamp base.

There are dusty cases full of god-knows-what – handles off things, bits of odd china, bric-a-brac, geological specimens and stuffed things. On the stairs a box full of stoppers from cut-glass decanters jostles with several panels from the interior of someone’s house. Panels of what, I have no idea. Suspended from the ceiling are a number of rickety-looking chairs and shelves full of interesting tat line the walls – though it’s difficult to actually reach them for the stacks of odd furniture in the way. There are plenty of dusty old volumes and some real curiosities – including what I can only surmise to be a Victorian crutch – presumably owned by a Greenwich Pensioner…

I have no idea of pricing – there are none on display and I’ve never actually found anything I’ve wanted to enquire about. I’d welcome any comments from anyone who’s actually bought something.

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