First off, the setup is genius. Indoor for when the British weather decides to have a meltdown. Outdoor for when the sun finally clocks in for work. It’s like they planned for every mood—yours and the sky’s.
You get the best of both worlds. Inside, you’ve got tables groaning under stacks of vinyl records and porcelain cats. Outside, vans open their boots like magic wardrobes full of rusty tools and vintage lampshades. It’s a smorgasbord of “why would anyone sell this?” and “I need this immediately.”
The Indoor Bit: Where Time Goes to Die
Stepping inside St. Augustine’s hall feels like walking into your gran’s attic—if she had a hoarding problem and a great sense of humor. There are tables dedicated to paperbacks that smell like log fires and forgotten Sundays. You’ll find a copy of a 1987 cookbook next to a guide to VHS rewinding.
And the jewellery! Oh, the jewellery. It’s all tangled in a Tupperware box like a metal spaghetti monster. Sift through it. You might find a brooch shaped like a frog. Will you wear it? Who cares? It costs 50p and makes life more interesting.
My favourite indoor trap is the “collectibles” table. It’s where one person’s misguided Beanie Baby investment becomes your ironic conversation piece. The seller will look you dead in the eye and say, “That’s a rare one, that is.” And you’ll nod, knowing full well it’s not. But you buy it anyway. Why? Because it’s fun.
The Outdoor Boots: Weather Roulette
Now, the outdoor bit. This is where the real action happens. It’s a car park transformed into a bazaar. You’ve got families selling their kids’ old scooters, blokes selling power tools they’ve “only used once” (sure, mate), and at least one elderly gentleman selling only keys. Just keys. I don’t ask questions.
The weather adds drama. If it’s drizzling, you get that cosy, “we’re all in this together” camaraderie. If it’s scorching, the ice cream van appears like a benevolent deity. You’ll overhear someone haggling a lawnmower down from £15 to £12. That is the theatre of the car boot sale.
7 Best Car Boot Sales in London For Rummaging Around This Weekend
And the smells! Hot dogs from the stall. Petrichor from the damp tarmac. And that faint, dusty scent of other people’s pasts. It’s oddly comforting.
