the thrill of the game
[the story is below and on my blog too .. please considering commenting on my blog! for posterity's sake!]
[update: if you're curious as to how the game works, look here]
In March of 2001, I accompanied my good friend Danny P to Europe. He was touring some of his movies on a whirlwind blitz of Germany, Holland, and Belgium. His wife Alison was too large with child to travel with him (she produced Henry later in the summer), so I got to go. As we were doing the indie mad dash, there was very little free time, but on St. Patrick's Day, we found ourselves with some time to kill in Brussels, Belgium.
I'll have to ask Danny how we came upon it, but we had the great good fortune to experience the open air flea market on Rue Blaes.
It was magical. Antique apothecary bottles, displays of French combs, colorful chamberpots, vintage encyclopedias.. when I saw the Dutch "Diabolo Robot" board game, I gasped. Incredibly, it was mine for about 5 bucks.
After I made the purchase and started walking down another aisle, Danny grabbed my arm and muttered "you want another one? then walk away, fast!" He had spied another Dutch robot board game at a different stall. He shooed me away, wisely knowing that the seller would probably up his price if he perceived me to be the collector of Dutch robot board games (which I had, at that very moment, become.) Danny scored "Robot Geeft Het Juiste Antwoord" for me for another five bucks.
The boxes are at left and upper right in the picture. The picture at lower right shows the content of one of the games -- a playing area with questions in the one circle, answers in the second. One positions the robot on the mirror and it points to the right answer!
It was a great trip and a lucky time and the very best flea score ever.
Postscript: This happened at the start of our trip. Not only did I buy the two games, but I also scored a bulky vintage Italian ceramic piece, with lid. With the extra weighty baggage, running for trains became less a joyous "Hard Day's Night" jog and more of something that I will be expected to do in hell when I get there.
the thrill of the game
[the story is below and on my blog too .. please considering commenting on my blog! for posterity's sake!]
[update: if you're curious as to how the game works, look here]
In March of 2001, I accompanied my good friend Danny P to Europe. He was touring some of his movies on a whirlwind blitz of Germany, Holland, and Belgium. His wife Alison was too large with child to travel with him (she produced Henry later in the summer), so I got to go. As we were doing the indie mad dash, there was very little free time, but on St. Patrick's Day, we found ourselves with some time to kill in Brussels, Belgium.
I'll have to ask Danny how we came upon it, but we had the great good fortune to experience the open air flea market on Rue Blaes.
It was magical. Antique apothecary bottles, displays of French combs, colorful chamberpots, vintage encyclopedias.. when I saw the Dutch "Diabolo Robot" board game, I gasped. Incredibly, it was mine for about 5 bucks.
After I made the purchase and started walking down another aisle, Danny grabbed my arm and muttered "you want another one? then walk away, fast!" He had spied another Dutch robot board game at a different stall. He shooed me away, wisely knowing that the seller would probably up his price if he perceived me to be the collector of Dutch robot board games (which I had, at that very moment, become.) Danny scored "Robot Geeft Het Juiste Antwoord" for me for another five bucks.
The boxes are at left and upper right in the picture. The picture at lower right shows the content of one of the games -- a playing area with questions in the one circle, answers in the second. One positions the robot on the mirror and it points to the right answer!
It was a great trip and a lucky time and the very best flea score ever.
Postscript: This happened at the start of our trip. Not only did I buy the two games, but I also scored a bulky vintage Italian ceramic piece, with lid. With the extra weighty baggage, running for trains became less a joyous "Hard Day's Night" jog and more of something that I will be expected to do in hell when I get there.