One of those Saturday mornings in spring when the sun decided to tickle your nose and the wind is playing with your curly hair. The first step this morning is heading you to a flea market a few minutes to walk along the channel. Your way is accompanied by dogs playing on the grass, petanque players raking the playing area, the flaps of the first butterflies and the races of the bees.
A coffee to go before you enter the hall of the flea market.
Old chairs, cupboards and lamp shades standing beside your way. You passing car and bike parts, stalls with old screws and nails and all the other little bits and pieces which you might need for ... I do not know.
At the far end of the hall there is an enlightened door which is leading you to an outside space of technical equipment.
Fridges, sinks, oven tops, suitcases full of cutlery, shelves and work benches.
And suddenly you reached a place of maybe 50 square metres where they lying nicely arranged.
That's exactly what you need for the wardrobe.