Hot on the heels of the fish van, Saturday romps to a crescendo as the hammer falls at Gaze’s weekly auction. By 10am all the twenty year old Volvos in East Anglia and the occasional dressed down celebrity have converged on Diss to rummage through a kaleidoscope of collectibles. Juggling tape measure and latte, bacon buttie and bidding card the frenzy begins. It's the most exhilarating form of recycling I can think of, one man's bundle of rusty old tools reinvents itself as the subject of my next painting.
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