From time to time when I have a glut of produce from my garden I sell off at my garden gate that which I can't eat or freeze. In past years I've used for a Sale sign a metal tripod thing abandoned on my front drive by road-hole-menders, and very handy it's been. Sadly however earlier this summer it was either nicked by some miscreant or retrieved by the council and so I had to think of something else to fulfil the same function.
I tried a sign hanging from a branch that hangs outward over the hedge but a van knocked that for six. I tried a post to hold one of my grandchildrens' blackboards but again, some beggar who can't steer straight gave it a whack.
Eventually I hit on the notion of taping signs to my wheelie bin and siting it in the middle of where my drive meets the road. Fine, very visible and very stable so no-one cared to risk hitting it with their wing mirrors and everyone could see it as they approached my drive. So there it's stood for the past fortnight bearing large sheets of lining wallpaper daubed with huge letters advertising Victoria Plums, Swiss Chard, Courgettes etc.
So far 4 customers, all barely 5' tall, have told me that before coming up the drive they stopped and looked in the wheelie bin expecting the fruit and veg to be inside. I asked each of them how edible they thought any plums at the bottom of a wheelie bin would look, and how they'd thought they might actually be able to reach down and get them out. All 4 said, Oh, I didn't think of that. Sometimes Shropshire folk can seem really really dumb.
I'm supposedly off to NYC first thing Saturday morning and my pooch has chosen now to be poorly. She's not eaten, didn't want to go for a walk, keeps womiting frothy watery stuff, is shaking, and looks extremely sorry for her self. If she's no better tomorrow we've to whip her round to the Vet before taking her to my daughter for a week with my grandchildren. It's not looking good for NYC, is it? 
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