Day 61 #100DaysOfOldDays

The jumble sales in the early 80’s, as I remember them, were the equivalent of a trip to Mr Price or Penny’s today. There was something about a jumble sale that you just don’t get at a car boot sale or from browsing in a charity shop—or Mr Price and Penny’s.  

A jumble sale took place only once or twice a year, so it was exciting, especially for children. It was a chance to have new things that didn’t cost half of your father’s wages. It was mostly second-hand goods on sale, but some things were brand new costing a fraction of their shop price. The proceeds would go to the church or a local charity.

The earliest ones I remember were held in the hall behind the Church of Ireland. I particularly remember the Christmas ones. They would be advertised for a couple of weeks beforehand; on posters in shop windows and in the local newspaper, The Celt. 

We’d be gathering our pennies in anticipation for the big spend. Doing jobs around the house to earn extra.  

We’d arrive at the hall to join the queue that would have started to form. You had to be early if you wanted to get anything worthwhile. People hopped from foot to foot to keep warm, even though they would’ve been well wrapped up in their winter coats and hats & scarves. The mammies would chatter among themselves, about Christmas and the foreseeable bargains at the jumble sale. Their puffs of breath forming little clouds in the frosty air. We, the children, would play around in the dark, scaring each other with ghost stories about the nearby graveyard in the ruins of the old church; Lord Lisgar and the headless horseman, banshees and werewolves.  

As soon as the doors would open everyone would rush in and scurry to their favourite stall. The mammies would usually aim for the wardrobe section; the children for the toys and bric-a-brac. There was something appealing about the scent of old books and the musty whiff of clothes and shoes that smelt like they’d been retrieved from the attic.

Part of our Christmas shopping was done at these jumble sales. An ornament for Mammy, a book or a game for Daddy, which was really for us. 

Sometimes we’d have money left to buy a bun at the cake stand or a slice of homemade bread covered with gooseberry or plum jam. Sometimes we’d just walk slowly past the cakes, looking at them, our mouths watering with the smell of icing sugar. The Christmas bakes hummed with nutmeg and cinnamon. Some of the kinder ladies behind the stand would sell a bun for a penny, if that’s all you had left.  

Things sold quite quickly at the jumble sales, with very little left behind.

The things I remember buying at a jumble sale: old annuals—Judy, Mandy, Bunty, Twinkle. Any I didn’t already have. Enid Blyton books, Black Beauty, The Little Match Girl, a white sparkly belt, a hat, handbags, half-empty bottles of nail polish and perfume, dolls, nice pens, crayons, colouring books with just a few pages coloured in, playing cards.

I remember buying things like fancy little boxes or pots, just to put stuff in. Mam would say, “Oh that’s lovely”… when really she meant, “Where are you going with that oul thing?” 

The popularity of charity shops did away with jumble sales. I hear about cake sales now and again, but they’re not a patch on the old-style jumble sales. Or is it because we look at things differently through our childhood eyes? 

Lucy’s drawing today!