Lesson 1: if you're crap at understanding how things work then you'll be even more crappy at understanding stuff that tumbles out of a brown jiffy bag. (How often have we mocked spotty ‘youfs’ in shops - yet if you are indeed like me, you need that spotty youth to explain stuff at a store counter!) Lesson 2: If your heart starts sinking as you tear at the plastic - you've bought bad again...
These Lego creations are wonderful. I became addicted to the charity pages of eBay around 2000, largely as it gives you an excuse to explain away the crap you buy. 'But it was for charity, in fact the Lego "What Will You Make" Challenge does great work..
Lesson 3: the 'it was not really for me' argument won't wash with partners and family, no matter how convincing you think you are; the world outside your head is a more independent realm (well, maybe not, but let's not go there).
The one designed by Aldo Cibic is easy to understand, it's a space station (a Cibic Centre!), a tiny space station, but you can see what it is. The other thing...oh goodness, what came over me?
The scorpion, OK....it has a certain crepuscular charm as Henry James said of the actress, but attached to a bright red child's Lego box? Come on, what's going on here? This was made by Stephen Lindfors, who designs stuff for Nokia, what ever it is it's cutting edge for sure.
Lesson 4: if you are bidding for multiple items you will always end up with the ones you wanted least.
I bought these two beanies and several others in a charity auction (CHugs - great charity, great people to deal with) but didn't get the ones I really wanted. The ones I bought have all found their wee niches in the our house. I bid for the two in the picture because no one seemed to want them; they are a bear called 'Jack', signed by the fab Jack Charlton, and a bird called 'Beak' signed by the even more fab Ingrid Pitt (how could Ingrid be unsold?).
Jack (who looks very pleased with himself, as well he might) and Ingrid live with me, a giraffe called Twigs signed by Sarah Hagen (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) lives with our youngest and our eldest has a tiger signed by Tom Lenk (also of BTVS).
All very cosy, but I remain dissatified. I went as high as I could for a rhino called Spike signed by Anthony Head and a snake signed by JK Rowling and something I can't remember signed by Alyson Hannigan, all of which I failed to win.
My Rose Elliot cookery books, like their owner, are bent and stained with over-use. She is the Delia Smith of veggie cooking, a revered goddess for we non-carnivores. I was so pleased when I bought this sketch of a marsh orchid at a charity auction. Yet somehow I have never quite got round to having it framed and hung in the kitchen. Yet it is rather nice. Sod it, I'm getting it framed.
And this witty little 4-liner from John Cleese, which I thought might look intelligent and stylish hung in my so-called study, well it too remains forlorn in a box in the envelope it came in.
This drawing by Helen Fielding is cute I feel, but it too remains unframed.
Lesson 5 (a subtle variation of Lesson 3): the cruel gods of eBay will not be appeased by your buying an object because you feel you ought to, or out of pity, any more than the desert God of Calvin is impressed by your good works; a good deed is done because it must be done, even if only to appease your wretched little conscience. (So stop expecting applause, you really don't deserve it, you smug git. And stop sneering at magazine adverts selling series of toy soldiers or Franklin Mint thimbles to the Philistines, you are not a better human being because you own something silly.)
One thing you must bear in mind on eBay that you have to bid to win anything; the eBay world is not an intimate friend with the ability to read your mind, you have to do something, and then you have to remember to look at your computer in order to be prompted by eBay to bid even more.
Lesson 6: remember to bid, you've got to be in to win, etc, etc; log in regularly and scowl at the incoming outbid prompts from the eBay djinns.
While on the subject of crime, remember
Lesson 7: The swindler's mantra; you cannot con an honest man. If you see something too good to be true then it is indeed likely to be too good to be true. There are many sellers out there skilled at giving the impression of naivety; you think you're getting a bargain out of them, they know they're getting a good deal out of you. And if you don't bite, there are others who will. And do check out the other stuff the seller is selling - if the seller is advertising a 17th century edition of a Spinoza work, and the other stuff being sold is also from 17th century Amsterdam then the book may possibly be kosher. But the odds will be against it. I repeat, there are clever people out there after your money, and the easiest con is to get the buyer to think they're getting away with a thief's bargain.
Lesson 8: It makes sense to pay through PayPal where it is offered, but there are complexities here. By far the best brief guide to the subject of electronic cash transfer I have seen was in the Observer 'Cash's section, 27 February, 2005. Read it and brood...
Lesson 9: And take special note: while it's nice to have nice things said about you on eBay, in fact do not place too much faith in good feedback; it's the hidden stuff you need to see. The reference'Great eBayer' does not qualify the seller for sanctity.
It may be charming to have complete strangers say 'hey, cool eBayer' in your feedback (honestly, it's like chatting with budgies sometimes), but note what happened to a friend of mine; she bought rubbish off some guy who sent her (with the parcel) a message saying that if she left negative feedback he would reciprocate.
Lesson 10: Accept eBay's "You are a Loser" messages with dignity; quite possibly you didn't really need any more crap in your life at that precise moment.