About The Baldock Bard.

In 1997 a scruffy untalented poet started to write verse for the Baldock Car Boot Sale adverts in the local papers on a four week trial. Before long his attempts at verse was being discussed in bars across the South East of the UK. A regular buyer at the car boot sales was in his local pub in Barnet when he heard two men at the bar discussing a car boot poem they had read in the local paper by someone they called 'The Baldock Bard' (after the town where the car boot sale was held). From this moment on, the un-named verse-writer was known far and wide as 'The Baldock Bard'. He lives in a cave carved into a hill just outside Baldock in Hertfordshire, living off the land. He is addicted to Cheeselets, Twiglets and Cola and has a long-suffering wife, a granddaughter, a daughter, a son-in-law, two dogs, geese and chickens

Disappearing Eileen!


I had forgotten about Eileen until I was going through my list of phone numbers and came across one for Linda.
Linda and Eileen met at the car boot sale one Saturday when they found themselves with adjacent stalls.
I believe Eileen was from near Milton Keynes (her daughter certainly was) and Linda was from somewhere near Newmarket.

But the story doesn’t start with their meeting, it starts a year before they met.

Eileen had become friendly with a couple who had a stall next to her one Saturday, on the far side of the field next to the hedge.
For the next few weeks they pitched-up next to each other and a friendship was formed. The couple were having a clear-out of their house before they moved to Lincolnshire.
The Saturday after the couple had moved Eileen told me that they had vowed to keep in touch and at some stage she’d been invited to stay at their new house.
They had told her that when they were settled in they would get in touch and send details of their new address and phone number. 
Over the weeks Eileen became despondent as she heard nothing until she resigned herself to the fact that they had forgotten her as they had moved on to a new life.

The following season she changed her usual spot for one on the other side of the field near to the burger van so she could have ‘a new start’.
She pitched up next to Linda, despite having similar stuff for sale, and they started to form a close friendship.
I heaved a sigh of relief as Eileen seemed to be her old self again.

Their friendship continued over the next three or so seasons until Eileen dropped a bombshell. She had met a man online and was emigrating back to Ireland where she had been left a small farmhouse near to Rosslaire.
In the meantime we had met her daughter who lived somewhere near Milton Keynes, and who had expressed the opinion that she was happy with this turn of events.
The Saturday after Eileen’s move, something seemed to be bothering Linda. 
Over a coffee she blurted out the tale.
Eileen had phoned her the day before the move for a chat, she seemed to be rather uncertain about the change in her life, but Linda put that down to understandable nerves.
She also promised to ring her for a chat while she was waiting for the ferry at Fishguard.

Linda never heard from her again.

Linda trawled the internet for any serious road accidents from Milton Keynes through to Fishguard.
She searched for any changes in occupants for farmhouses in the Rosslaire area.
She repeatedly did name searches.
All to no avail.

She concluded that:
a) Eileen had no intention of keeping in touch, possibly as a result of being let down by the couple who had gone to Lincolnshire.
b) She had been in a terrible but unreported accident on the journey that stopped her making that call from the dockside.
c) She had never wanted to keep in touch and as soon as there was no car boot sale, there was an end to the friendship.

Shortly afterwards Linda was poorly and did her last car boot sale before vanishing from sight. 

However there is a postscript.
On the day of my daughter’s wedding in 2012, someone was apparently looking for me. The lady who passed on the message said that he thought she said her name was Eileen and that she had once been a regular until she emigrated to Ireland.

Postscript number 2!
Having written down the bones of this tale I was left with a phone number and a wondering… ‘What if I try the number? It’s been about ten years but I’ll never know unless…!’ 
So I rang.
The phone was answered!
My introduction: “Hello, I’m sorry to trouble you but my name is Simon, I have the Baldock Boot Sale and had this number for a lady who used to sell with us, she was called Linda?” 
The answer blew the cobwebs off many years of wondering, 
“Hello Simon, this is Linda!” 
We had a wonderful chat and it was great to hear that she was still about!

What I want you to do TODAY!
Dust off a phone number you haven’t used for years and give it a try.
After all you can always bail out and put the phone down, but what have you got to lose.
You never know!!

Stay happy
Stay lucky
But above all
Stay Well

Best wishes from Simon (aka Baldock Bard!)


The Two Marys

Mowing the strips on a Friday!

I was cutting the rows today (Friday) ready for the Saturday Boot Sale and it was a very hot morning. I was reminded of a couple of buyers from many years ago that everyone called “The Two Marys!’
They were twins, an adorable pair and nobody could tell them apart.They were always jolly and generally a joy to have around and always called themselves The Bloody Marys! 
Not only did they share looks, height and hair colour, being identical, but they were both very much overweight. This they used to its full advantage, carrying out pincer moves on a stall in order to intimidate other buyers into parting the way and sellers into parting with the best bargains for the fewest coins.
I would always know they were about, when I’d hear one shout from the other side of the field: ”Oi Simon! Do you wanna be over six-feet tall? If so, come over here and lay between us and by the time we’ve finished with your skinny ribs between us, you’ll be squashed to well over six feet!”

Then on a very hot summers day we had to call an ambulance.
One of the Mary’s had collapsed onto a stall, the heat had got to her.
The other Mary was inconsolable and both were carted off in the ambulance.
Sadly I never saw either of them again, but whenever the weather is hot in the car boot sale field I think of them.

Have a great weekend
Stay Happy, Stay Lucky and please Stay Well
Simon (aka Baldock Bard)


Have You Got a Bootsale…?


As we finally approach our delayed opening day may I firstly thank all our wonderful customers for their patience.
While wondering what I could scribble this week, I came across a list I’d compiled of questions that people have asked over the years and thought I’d share it…

I’ve seen your advert for a Saturday boot sale in the local paper, do you have a boot sale this Saturday?

We can’t come to the car boot sale this Saturday as we’re going to our daughter’s wedding, can you tell us where our local Sunday sale is held? We live in Brentford.

My wife has a weak bladder. Can we park near to the toilets but up-wind so we can’t smell it?

We came to your boot sale when we were staying with our son and thoroughly enjoyed it. Do you organise any others? The Aberdeen area would be handy as that’s where we live.

Your advert in the paper says the start time is seven o’clock, is this in the morning or evening?

I came as a seller to your boot sale some years ago and my wife spent all our takings at the burger van and neighbouring stalls, can you guarantee that doesn’t happen again?

What time does the boot sale open? It says seven on the website. Is it still open at ten? I like a lie-in on a Saturday morning.

We came to your car boot five weeks ago and it rained. Can you make sure this doesn’t happen again as not only did our stall get wet but my husband caught a cold and was miserable for days.

It says on your website that your car boot is on a Saturday. Is it on Sundays as well?
I want to fill my car full of items for sale. Do you provide tables?

My family are newly vegan, could you make sure we are nowhere near the burger van as last time the smell of frying bacon was too tempting and I discovered my wife sneaking a bacon roll around the back of the toilets.

We are having to bring a young child with us. Do you provide a free crèche?

I am a pensioner. It says free parking and entry for buyers. Is it cheaper for pensioners?

At last week’s boot sale my husband left the car door open. As a result the battery was flat when we came to leave. You jump-started the car from your truck. On Monday he was late to work and had his wages docked because the battery was flat again. As a result he has had to buy a new car battery. Can we have a free stall this week to make up for it?

Do you have a boot sale on a Thursday as that is my day off?

Your website says your season ends in October. Will you be holding any sales in November?

Your website suggests that you already have a burger van and you state you don’t need another. I have a burger van too. Can I bring it along?

Last time we came to your boot sale we had a car full. Unfortunately we had put the table in first and so it was last out and some of our stuff was ruined on the damp grass. Can you make sure this doesn’t happen again, or at least warn people on those mornings when the grass may be damp.

I shall be away for a fortnight in July, can you save me a space?

My aunt used to come to your boot sale every Saturday years ago. Sadly she died and was cremated. Could my sister and I spread her ashes during a car boot sale? Would you be able to provide refreshments for the family? Sandwiches and cake would suffice. We’d be willing to pay for a pitch.

It says free entry for buyers and free parking. Does that extend to sellers as well?

Last week you replied to my text message at 5.06 in the morning, can you please not do this again as it woke my husband up. He’d been on lates at work and had only just got to sleep and was very angry.

I shall be bringing a trailer behind my car. Will there be someone to help me reverse it and set my stall up as it will be early for me and I won’t be properly awake.

When we last came to your boot sale my husband dropped a set of keys. That was three weeks ago, have they been handed in yet?

I belong to a metal detecting club, can I come onto your field on a Sunday? I am willing to share any treasure I find.

Three weeks ago we had a pitch next to Maureen. She and my wife got on very well. It was her first time as well as ours. Is she going to be there on Saturday? If she is, can we have the pitch next door to her again?

Last week a man bought a jacket from our stall for 75p and we agreed to keep it for him while he looked around the rest of the boot sale. He never picked it up so we left it in a cardboard box for him when we drove away. Can you make sure he gets it. He was wearing a green anorak, jeans and brown shoes. I think he was called Dave but could have been Mick.

My wife’s mother died recently and we are clearing out her house. We will be hiring a van locally, planning to return it empty to the hire depot before midday Saturday on our way back home. Will we sell everything or can we leave behind anything we don’t sell? She lived local to you and we’re from Darlington.

I look forward to seeing you soon
Stay Happy, Stay Lucky, Stay Healthy

Best Wishes
Baldock Bard


Martin the Microlight pilot


The process of ‘DO WE? DON’T WE?’ is long and complicated. The overriding factor in judging when to open for the 2020 season is down to ONE concern ONLY: The Safety Of Our Customers.
Unlike a market where everyone knows what a piece of fruit or loaf of bread looks like and satisfaction can be achieved from 2 metres, a car boot sale relies on ‘Find By Rummage!’
There is NO SPECIFIC ADVICE to be had from anywhere and precious little overall advice. So please bear with us, we’re doing our very best to open at the right time for our sellers, our buyers and our staff…

After mowing the boot sale selling area last week I flew my Inspire 2 drone over the field to see the effects of my labours! 
Out of the blue I remembered one of our customers from about fifteen years ago. 

I shall call him Martin, because like so many, I knew him by face rather than by name.

I first met Martin the Microlight pilot when he was walking around the boot sale with his arm in plaster. I had seen him a few times before and we’d just about got past the ‘Good morning’ stage of acquaintance. 
Knowing he had recently been on holiday, I asked if the landing at Luton after his flight back from Tenerife had been a bit bumpy! 
Now Martin liked to laugh, it would begin like a bubbling pan on the hob, then become a chortle and finally overflow into a full-on belly-laugh. 
“Nah! It wasn’t on the flight back, but a bit of a dodgy landing in my microlight! I must take you up sometime. The view from up there is just amazing, you can tell it’s nearer Heaven.” 

These were in the days prior to my drone flights over the farm and the car boot sale field. 

He always seemed to have a new story for me about a recent scrape he’d got into while flying his flimsy aircraft.
He’d then repeat the request that I take a flight with him, saying, as he waved his now mended arm in the air and would say “It’s better, how about that flight, you must see the world from nearer Heaven, or as I call it ‘God’s Own View!’”
Like many customers, I am ashamed I didn’t notice his absence from the weekly sales for quite some time, but suddenly it occurred to me that he was missing.

I asked someone I knew was an acquaintance of his and was given the answer ‘Bad Crash Landing’. 
Imagining Martin from head to foot in plaster I then said, “Oh well, wish him luck and tell him I’ll see him soon!”
His friend didn’t reply for a moment and suddenly the truth dawned on me.
“He had a very bad landing and now shares God’s View, I don’t think you’ll be seeing him soon, or at least I hope not.”
Whenever I put my drone above the car boot sale I think of Martin. I only wish I could share with him what’s showing on my screen, but then I realise I’m simply looking at his view anyway! 

Enjoy the view Martin!



A Sunny Saturday in July 2006

While mowing the boot sale field this week I was remembering those customers who were once a part of my life at the Bootsale.

Of all those customers I’ve seen over the years, one that truly stands out is Lucky. He used to turn up in an ex-BT van, you know the type – grey with a moulded plastic body.

Lucky would leap out of the van when parked and do a hundred-yard dash to place a cone/coat/wife or similar to mark the extremity of his proposed pitch.
He would then spend the next couple of hours filling this vast area with items from his Tardis-like van interior.
The only problem being, that in all the years he attended, I never once knew him to have enough time to display everything before it was time to start putting everything away.
So, for Lucky, the whole morning was a constant procession to and from the van.

I’m not sure who first coined the term ‘Lucky’ because he was anything but over-blessed in the fortune department.
His first spell of bad luck arrived in a consignment of cigarette lighters that he predicted would make him a massive profit because he had bought a pallet-load of them ‘on the cheap’.
Unfortunately he had not counted on the weather being so hot and one summers day the van packed to the roof with these bargain lighters became the focus for attention from the fire brigade as they became a car-park fireball.
The chassis and cab of the van were saved but unfortunately the cargo area was turned into a large plastic blob.
This didn’t deter Lucky as his maisonette was stuffed to the gunwales with ‘reserve gear’. So instead of arriving in his plastic van he would arrive in an estate car towing a vastly overweight trailer and his constant procession continued once again.

Sadly his long-suffering wife/pitch marker was diagnosed with cancer and he disappeared from the sales.
I learnt some months later that she had died and that he had lost all joy in life.

Some years ago he turned up one last time, a shadow of his former self with a girlfriend in tow.
He set up his stall without enthusiasm, sold a few things, drank a cup of coffee with me to chat about old times and disappeared from view.

Gone…but not forgotten.


How Not To Buy A Tea Service!


Everyone knows that car boot sales are renowned for customers haggling over prices. It can be something that makes me cringe, particularly when I watch an experienced haggler take an inexperienced or nervous stall-holder to the cleaners. Very occasionally the tables turn and the persistent barterer comes up against a brick wall or in this case a tea service.

When I arrived at the man’s stall it was obvious that the bartering had just passed phase-one where the prospective purchaser had just asked the price of a particularly attractive, complete and unblemished, everyday tea service.

The barterer ignored the seller’s request for £5 and had chosen to start at 50p.

Now it should be noted at this point that it would seem that some customers, seem to have a limited grasp of values at car boot sales, that they are only able to mutter “50pee”.

The seller stood his ground and replied “five pounds”

To which the customer replied “50pee”

Just when it looked like someone needed to put in a call to ACAS, the arbitration service, to resolve the dispute, the customer raised her bid to “75pee” thus dumbfounding all those within earshot.

All seemed lost when the seller stubbornly stuck to his original price.

With perhaps more hope than stubbornness or perhaps the buyer just liked to try out the new phrase, the Prospective buyer suggested 75pee for a second time.

With a resigned shrug of his shoulders the seller turned, reached into his car boot and fetched out a hammer.

The crowd took a surprised step back and with more force than I thought necessary, the man brought the hammer down on the tea service which shattered into a thousand pieces.

Smiling a sweet smile he turned to ‘50pee’, whose mouth hung open with surprise, and grinning, said in a sweet a voice you might use on a small child or cuddly lamb, “now have the ‘effing thing for nothing.”

Give that seller a coconut!!

Please take care and stay safe.
We hope to be back with you before too long
Very best wishes
Farmer Giles (aka Baldock Bard)


Phone calls can be deceiving!


Car Boots and Sunday Soots (2)

While we still can’t open I’m going back through some memories collected over the years at the Baldock Saturday Car Boot Sale. Hope to see you all before the end of the season!
Baldock Bard

Roberto rang one Wednesday afternoon in June, some years ago.
I had been plagued by cold-callers from the Indian sub-continent so when the ‘out of area’ label showed on my mobile, I was less than receptive.
“Hello, my name is Roberto,” said the foreign accent.
“Mine is Santa Claus,” I replied, “and no, I don’t want to buy whatever it is you’re selling.”
Unusually with cold-callers there was a slight pause.
“Pardoning me,” replied Roberto, “Do you have car boot sale?”

Feeling a fool I explained that I did indeed run a car boot sale and yes I would be very pleased to see him the following weekend.
He went on to enquire just where the sale was located and I asked my usual question so I could give him correct directions: “Where exactly are you coming from?”
“Portugal!” said Roberto, as if this were the most obvious answer, “or to be precise, a small village outside Lisbon.”
By this time I had convinced myself that it was not a cold-call but a hoax call, one of many that friends seem to think hilarious.
Some years ago they had rung up wanting to know if they could sell second-hand safes at the sale, confessing that they had some for sale that were only slightly shop soiled, having recently had the doors blown off but would make good garden ornaments.

However as anyone in business will tell you, it’s better to be ‘had’ by a hoax than miss a prospective customer.
This time I was simply pleasant, adding that I was looking forward to meeting him soon and that should any problems arise on his arrival at the sale he should ask for Farmer Stan or look for the man in the high-vis coat.

About a fortnight later I had just parked a large white van into a selling space when I realised the following car was a small white ‘left hooker’ Seat hatchback with a foreign number plate.
Behind the wheel sat a smallish dark skinned man, a large grin spread across his face.

“Mr Farmer Stun,” he yelled in greeting, “I, Roberto, from Portugal,” and holding a hand to the side of his face with thumb extended towards his ear and pinky towards his mouth, “we speak on phone!”
I parked him up and promised I’d return to see him later.

My curiosity had been aroused, what on earth could be so valuable that someone would travel across three countries, a mountain range and over 1300 miles?
It had to be either imported cigarettes, alcohol or worst of all, drugs.
While I went around collecting the money and chatting to various stall-holders I would gaze across at the constant large crowd gathered around Roberto’s stall. Other traders had noticed as well, some even suggested that I would not be able to resist becoming a customer when I reached him, however not wishing to seem to be favouring one seller above others I feigned disinterest and made sure I found something on their stall to compliment them about.

When I reached the stall it was still completely shielded from view by a crowd, however Roberto had seen me!
“Farmer Stun,” his grinning face bobbed above the heads of the crowd as if he was on a trampoline, “I have your money, Euros or Pounds?”
He then added, “I have kept some special back for you, a gift from my garden in Portugal.”
My heart sank as I imagined him passing heaven-knows-what above the crowd along with the pitch fee.
“Make way for the Farmer Stun,” he shouted all of a sudden as he waved his arms like a beserk windmill, “Farmer Stun, let him through.”

Roberto thrust money into my hand along with a full brown paper bag. Tentatively I opened what seemed to be a bag of ball-like objects. I carefully opened the bag to be confronted by… lemons!

I still couldn’t work out how it could have been worth his while to drive such a distance with a small hatchback with lemons, my suspicions had not been quelled by the gift, I thanked him and said I’d be back for a chat when I had finished my rounds, “I’m look forward Farmer Stun!” chirped Roberto, putting four lemons into a bag for another eager customer.

When I had finished collecting the pitch fees I spied Roberto walking towards the tea wagon.
“Tea or coffee?”
“Oh! Farmer Stun, coffee please.”
We sat down at the plastic table.
“I sold out!” said Roberto.
“What of?” I said trying not to sound suspicious.
“You’re trying to tell me that it is worth your while driving all that way with a boot full of lemons and driving all the way back again?”
“Yes, but I’m not going home yet, I go to Birmingham!”
“But you’ve no more lemons!”
“Ah! You are not correct, I have one small bag.”
“So let me get this right,” I said, “you are going to drive to Birmingham to sell one bag of lemons?”
“No, they are a gift for my mother.”
“Ah that explains it, your mother lives in Birmingham.”
It was obvious that the shared language was not going to help if we were to dive into ever deeper water, so I decided to let the subject drop.
“So have you enjoyed your first car boot sale?” I asked.
In a flash I imagined the myriad of events that could have become the sullying of our reputation abroad.
“I’m sorry you haven’t enjoyed the sale, may I ask why!”
“It has been very good, I have enjoyed the car boot sale, what I mean is it’s not my first one, I have done it before. I pick lemons in my garden at home, drive to a car boot sale or market in England, sell lemons, drive to see my brother in Birmingham. This time I pick up my mother who flew for the first time. She rang up and say “Roberto, come and fetch me, flying not right at my age, bring lemons, they no good here” and so to help with the cost of the trip, I bring lemons to sell and a bag for her.”
“Ah!” I said with relief, “all is now clear, the lemons came from your garden.”
“No,” said Roberto with a look on his face that suggested that I hadn’t been listening.

I stood, shook his hand, wished him well and went to help a stall-holder whose clothes rail had collapsed.
Ten minutes later I was standing by my car at the exit, munching on my breakfast, when the small white hatchback pulled up and the window on the passenger side slid down releasing a faint smell of what could be described as ‘washing-up liquid chic’.
“Farmer Stun, Farmer Stun,” laughed Roberto, scarcely able to control his laughter, “the lemons I sell came from my mothers garden!” Grinning inanely at what was obviously a popular Portugese joke I wished him bon voyage and returned to my bacon roll.

Roberto came a couple of times for the next two seasons and then, like so many, vanished into the ether.

However whenever I smell lemons…


Car Boots and Sunday Soots!



Lockdown Lines from a Boot Sale Boss!
Issue 1

The title of this collection of stories stems from our first year of sales back in 1992.A couple turned up with a rather large gazebo. Under the shelter of this they put a number of clothes racks containing suits. At the side of the gazebo was what looked to be a camping toilet tent with a paper sign attached by safety pin that read: ‘Changing Room’
Above the entrance was a large cardboard sign on which was scribbled in felt pen: 
Sunday Soots Ideal for Interviews, Work or Church!’

Down the years I have seen all sorts of signs, but this was the first that made me chuckle and has earnt inclusion into this collection of stories from our car boot sale.
In 1992, we held our first car boot sale. It attracted 12 sellers! 
My reaction? 
I was thrilled. 
That first morning I had no idea if any would turn up. 

In those days Sunday was the day for car boot sales and we were taking a hammer to a long-established tradition in the hope it might work!
We have always opened (when the weather has allowed) on the first Saturday after Easter. 
There has only been one delay before. In 2001 we didn’t have our first sale until the first of June and that was due to the Foot and Mouth Disease outbreak.
In the 27 years up to the end of the 2019 season we have played host to just under 45,000 sellers and hundreds of thousands of buyers, so we must possibly be doing something right?
Last Saturday (16th May 2020), on what should have been our fifth sale of the 28th Season, I wandered around the empty grass field strewn with daisies and overflew it with my drone. 
My mind wandered (as it seems to of late!) and I tried to remember some of those sellers and buyers that I came to know over the years. 

I thought of many characters who are now at that great boot sale in the sky, the memory prompted by my position in the field; 
By the old entrance: ‘Mr Spanish’ in his light-blue Transit van. 
Up by the far end (3rd row in): ‘The architect’s mother’. 
Halfway down the far row (facing the hedge): ‘Live Like A Lord’. 
In the middle, wandering around in a thick coat in the height of summer: ‘Damn Seagulls’. 
Opposite the burger van: ‘Backwards Compass’. 
Next to the burger van: ‘Mr Barker – Fruit and Veg’. 
First row at the far end: ‘Lucky with his ex-BT plastic van’. 
‘The Burger Bus’: Far side against the hedge (6 or 7 caterers-ago) 
Along the far hedge, near the far end: ‘The Broken Tea Service’. 
‘Don and Margaret’ (British Heart) Second row. 
And of course I will never forget ‘Steve’ of Trish and Steve’s burger van. 
These are just a few that I remembered with a smile last Saturday.

So many friendships have been brokered here that it has become not just a place to buy and sell, but a meeting place for friends and friends you have yet to meet!
So special, in fact, that it wouldn’t surprise me in the least, if the spirits are happier in this special field than in a burial ground. I think it is not beyond the realms of possibility that they still meet here. If you were to listen closely when the field is empty, perhaps you’ll hear laughter! 
It was when I was reflecting on the passing of yet another regular customer some years ago that I came up with the saying: ‘If it weren’t for people, this would be just another rock in space’. 
To you all, we miss you and hope that soon this terrible virus will soon be a footnote in History and we’ll be able to meet again. I will be adding to this story over the weeks, so until then…

Stay Happy, Stay Lucky but above all Stay Well

Farmer Giles (aka Simon) and the Team


Nice Nails!


My six-year-old granddaughter arrived on Saturday clutching her make-up bag. Whist thrilled to see her I was somewhat concerned as to what might be about to happen. An old man with painted nails doesn’t seem to be an unusual sight at the pharmacy these days…

My granddaughter arrived with her makeup kit,
and I was told simply to ‘Sit!’
“Your nails are a mess they need some care,
once that’s done I’ll do your hair!” 
My nails were painted done quite well,
no varnish remover I sighed “Oh well!”
Off to the pharmacy for varnish remover
(could be rather a tricky manoeuvre).
The pharmacist smiled at the unusual sight:
“Is sir going somewhere special tonight?”

When I explained the nails he told me that his daughter used to put her grandfather’s hair into plaits! I asked him to whisper so that my granddaughter didn’t get any new ideas!

© Baldock Bard 2019
For more from the Baldock Bard click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
The Baldock ‘Boutique’ Boot Sale
Buyers will still Park and Enter FREE!
www.u-boot.co.ukIt is the friendliest bargain bonanza anywhere!
Feed your hungry sat-nav with SG7 6RD


The Remaindered Hat!


Being the age I am, I’m supposed to become ‘outraged’ at the drop of a hat. The other day when I was in a well-known shop looking for some winter attire before the ‘Beast From The East 2’ strikes, I spotted a child’s hat. At first glance it looked part of the ‘Hello Kitty’ range, on closer inspection it wasn’t. I was confused by the branding, little wonder it was remaindered…

Something’s about to hit the UK,
in which politicians have no say,
by the end of the week it’s said (at least),
a visitation of the ‘Beast from the East!’

So wrap up your kids warm,
when there’s chill in the city,
but beware of hats branded:
the Snow and the Titty?

Take care and wrap up warm. If anyone understands the branding of this hat, could they possibly enlighten me! 

© Baldock Bard 2019
For more from the Baldock Bard click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard