All the way down in the arse-end of South East London lies the historical shopping paradise that is Deptford Market. Dating back to the early 1800s, the dingy area started life as a flea market where you could buy cheap and useful stuff like second-hand clothes, tools, and furniture from charismatic Victorian gentlemen wearing top hats and pocket watches.
Most of the market stalls have been in families for generations passed down like the treasured heirlooms they are. A cultural landmark, today the market is basically a hub for senile old men with no teeth to sell shitty fake designer bags and weird hair products. However, if you walk all the way down Deptford High Street, you’ll find the one tiny section of the original flea market that still exists. It’s a small square full of ridiculous junk. There you can easily find stuffed squirrels, second-hand prosthetic legs and broken stethoscopes. In other words, everything you’ve ever wanted. One time I even found a half-empty tube of lube for 25p. Score!
When I arrived at the market I was greeted by an old guy smoking a pipe and wearing a top hat with "The Boss" written on it in magic marker. He’s kind of the unofficial ruler of the junk. He told me that he’s been running his stall for over 40 years, and that of all the markets in London, Deptford has the most "za-za-zoom". Look at all the cool stuff I bought for just under a fiver.
This is a letter someone named Karen wrote to someone named Liz 18 years ago. Why someone would be selling this at a flea market I have no idea. It’s basically four pages about the fact that someone stole Karen’s wallet, and that now she’s really bummed out about it. I kind of regret the fact that I spent money
on this but what else can you get for 10p these days? Even Chomps are up to 15p so I guess it’s almost a bargain.
TELL ME WHY. ANSWERS TO OVER 400 QUESTIONS CHILDREN ASK MOST OFTEN: 50P
I can't believe I never had a copy of this handy little book when I was a kid. To think I went through my entire childhood not knowing about the process by which tobacco is cured, or when the concept of insurance was invented.
IRENE’S SCENTED WISHING CANDLE: ¬£1
The guy I bought this from smelled like he hadn’t taken a shower in ten years. I thought ¬£1 was a bit steep for a candle, but he insisted that the fact it had "magical powers" justified its price. He then pointed me in the direction of the cheaper, less talented candles.