What drew me into the shop was the display in the front window: a whole bunch of knives, tin-toy robots and nautical-style barometres arranged on a coffee table built out of a V8 Motor, surrounded by telesopes and old motor oil posters. (Vickers Vimmies flying in formation with the caption "Modern Aviators use Shell Aviation Fuel"). The shop is called Blokey Stuff.
How can a bloke resist?
The V8 coffee table had a large sheet of glass balanced on the point here the carby goes, with the air filter bolted to the manifold through the glass. I thought "Yeah, I could go for that." The tin-toy robots were great! Their boxes showed giant robots with laser eyes and frightened people rinning away, but the toys were a 12" high things made of pressed aluminium and painted it bright colours, with random numbers pained on the front or the word "Robot" in case you were in any doubt that it was, indeed, a robot despite the lack of laser eyes (they were red circles painted on the head). The toys a operated by spring motors - some has keys, some had little crank handles poking out the side.
*manic laughter* "My robot is finished! Now to rule the world! IGOR! Help me start it!" Crank chugga chugga chug cough Crank chugga chugga chug cough Crank chugga chugga chug chug chug BANG ChugChugChugChugChugChugChugChug *manic laugher*
Well that's how I took over the world in the mid 60s. I was 5 so give me a break.
Other tin-toys were little wind up cars that ran around a pressed aluminium track, or trains that operated roller coaster style by being dragged up a steep slope and rolling down a long slope with lots of curves.
The shop had other things, too: die-cast classic cars (Porsche, Ferrari, Corvet) fossils (cool ones, like fish and trilobites), night vision goggles, ball bearing puzzles, combined thermometer/hydrometers, old-style star charts with the constellations drawn in, glow in the dark stuff, sharp things, brass things, light bending things, and lots of STUFF that simply kicked the bloke gene. My wallet whimpered as soon as I walked in.
I am not cruel to the helpless so I ended up buying nothing, but it was very hard. The bloke gene was saying "Wuss! Blouse!" as I left the shop.
I'll be better prepared for my next trip to Parra. Blokey Stuff awaits.