The writing of a girl who likes heavy metal and dolls houses, making things and charity shopping

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Borrowed blanket

I raced home this morning as my friend Josephine was calling me from Australia for a catch up. It was great to speak to her after such a long time, as she has been on her travels again. Weirdly we were introduced when I was working with an ex-boyfriend of hers. A job I had lined up in Japan fell through so she helped me sort one out in South Korea. So despite both being from Birmingham, it wasn't until we were in Seoul we became friends!

Yesterday I popped into Vintage in Warwick and found a fantastic patchwork blankety-throw creation. After getting the vintage man to help me unfold and examine it, he told me I could have it for a mere £45! In hindsight I should have thrust my visa card into his hand, but I was trying to be good as this month is proving to be somewhat tight after being off sick. So I restrained myself, although did say I was very tempted... and the kind vintage man said I could take it home for a few days and see what I thought! When I got it home I thought it was very good indeed and I liked it a lot. Then I spied the small price tag on the corner, which said neither £45 nor even £55. It is in fact 85 English pounds. The vintage man made a mistake. Disappointing, but tomorrow I'm going to see the seller and see what she says! Maybe I'll have a new blanket, and maybe not...


  1. This is the kind of situation in which I would a) cry. b)spend money I don't have on it.

    I hope when you speak to the seller, it is £45, beds need cosy blankets.

  2. I went for option B! After returning it to the shop for fifteen minutes while I went to eat a pasty, I went back and bought it for 70 quid!

  3. He let you take home the blanket?! Wow, that's some sales technique!! I love this man :) Oh no to it costing more money though – I would have been dishonest and not fessed up personally but then I'm bad like that! ;)

  4. I know! I could have written down any old address and had away with it, but then I'd be living in fear of persecution every time I walked into town... Warwick is a small place... and, even more worryingly I wouldn't be able to shop there again! So I paid the nice man and felt somewhat guilty, but as I like to say in times like these "you can't put a price on happiness!"