Magpie Monday - When I Grow Up

I'm running low on intelligent content this week, my brain is kind of sleepy.  I know there's a whole mess of bargains I've picked up recently that I haven't blogged about yet, most of which I haven't even taken photos of (but when you've seen 1 pair of women's jeans, you've seen them all), but here's a special little something I had to share.

 We were in Wrexham a couple of weeks ago, and I insisted on our usual "tour of every charity shop in town", because, well, you never know.  Daddy had vanished to find the gents, while Squeaky & I were nosing around Age UK.  I'd just spotted an identical Deputy Daisy that I figured might come in handy for emergencies, and was trying to pay & hide her in my bag without being noticed, when Squeaky happened across this. -------->

I tried to get her to leave it.  Even without batteries in, she was singing away (the first pic was taken minutes after purchase, while we were topping up our caffeine levels, when we still didn't know if it would work at all.)  But Daddy's a soft touch, and so he gave in & bought it.  And then he found batteries when we got home, and got it working.  Yes, she is being a rockstar along to Bruce Springsteen. No, I don't know why.  (Actually, I've just noticed it's Rod Stewart. Don't judge me!)

The microphone isn't all that good, to tell the truth, you have to have it RIGHT up to your mouth for it to amplify & it distorts badly.  But she loves it.  Loves loves LOVES it.  It's fairly quiet, so I don't feel too badly for our neighbour when she starts on another 18 choruses of Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

I honestly think this is in number 1 favourite toy spot at the moment, edging out all sorts of full priced shinies.  How do they know though? How did she immediately know it was a microphone & stand, and that what you do is take it off the stand and sing into it? It's not like we're the Jacksons or something.  I blame Upsy Daisy's megaphone - Postman Pat doesn't sing.

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