IT IS early on a Sunday morning. Long lines of cars are forming in the towns and cities of the UK, containing thousands of people excited about what the next few hours will hold. This is not the fever dream of the most optimistic church revivalist made real, but the New Year return of the ever popular car-boot sale.
“Car-boots” are typically held in fields and car parks. Those who attend them queue from early morning in the hope of a bargain or rare find. The recent rebranding of these events as a hip shopping pastime has been attributed to both the cost-of-living crisis and the popularity of resale apps such as Vinted and Depop, particularly with younger generations.
A recent study, in partnership with the online retailer Amazon, suggests that the secondhand shopping market in the UK has grown into a £4.3-billion economy, and that the average person in the UK spends £124.80 a month on secondhand items, compared with £58.40 five years ago.
Sunday-morning car-boot sales are a cultural phenomenon, but could also be viewed as disheartening for people who hope for full churches. There are some church leaders, however, who view car-boots not as direct competition to church, but as a community with which to engage. Some find unexpected treasure on unusual holy ground.
Martin WilsonThe tents at Church@CarBootSale, in Essex
The origins of the sales are unclear, although a longstanding “modern myth” holds that car-boot sales originated in Canada and were introduced to the UK by Fr Harry Clarke, a Catholic priest, who died in 2011. While the dates are unclear, friends of Fr Clarke confirm that the “kind and humorous” priest may well have carried the spark of the idea to the UK.
Sheila Johnson, a Roman Catholic chaplain to Glan Clwyd Hospital, in north Wales, was a lifelong friend of Fr Clarke. She recalled his enthusiasm for car-boot sales on his return from Canada.
“He had friends there that he used to go to each year, and they had the car-boot sales. And he came back with what he had seen in mind. He was a really good man, and liked people, especially people on the margins. He always wanted to bring people together in something different.
“He believed that you didn’t have to go to church to find God. God found you wherever you happened to be; and, in whatever situation you were in, God was with you. So, he saw the car-boot as a way of bringing people together, but also that your things that you no longer wanted or needed didn’t get thrown on the tip — somebody else could use them. And he passed that idea on, showing incredible foresight.”
THE spirit of Fr Clarke’s eagerness to “meet people where they’re at” has been picked up by church leaders who have reached out to the “car-boot community”. One of them is the Revd Linda Tomkinson, who was appointed as a Pioneer Minister to the Mereside Estate in Blackpool, in 2016.
Not having a church building, she says, “we started a church service in our living room, with me, my husband, and the next-door neighbour. Our house was on a council estate opposite one of the largest car-boot sales in the north-west of England, and every Sunday morning we saw streams of people — thousands — crossing the road to go to the car-boot; so we thought, why would we put something up in competition to it? Instead, we began afternoon church at 4 p.m. on Sundays.
“Then, a couple of months later, we decided to see if we could actually engage with the car-boot sale. My husband and I prayed together, and then we went over one Sunday morning and asked to speak to the manager. We asked him if there’d be any possibility of us having some kind of Christian presence on the car-boot sale regularly.
“He was quite reluctant, initially, but he said, ‘Let me go and talk to the owners.’ He came back, and he said, ‘The owners think it’s a fantastic idea: come every week, and come for free.’ So that was the start of it.”
In Blackpool, Ms Tomkinson’s venture started with the purchase of a huge tent.
“A lady who had previously attended the old church which had closed down on our estate had died, and left us some money in her will, and we used that to buy the tent. We managed to get a table, we put candles on it for people to light, and we had a sign up saying, ‘Lighting a candle is a prayer.’
“We also had a table with leaflets, information also about what we were doing locally as a church, and also how to find your local church through A Church Near You. We had little forms that we could fill out and tell people what their local church was, what time it was on, and the name of the vicar for them to then take away, if they ever asked.
“One of the agreements we had with the owners of the car-boot was that we weren’t allowed to be ‘Bible-bashing’ people. So, we didn’t go out, telling people to come in. We just put signs up, and we took a couple of deck chairs, sat in the tent, and people came in to talk.”
People came in to light candles, she recalls, and they did so for a host of personal reasons. “A lady came in because she needed somewhere to sit down and do some breastfeeding one day. But people came in to chat to us, and one day there was a lady who lit a candle, and she sat down and burst into floods of tears. We found out that her mother had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Norfolk Churches TrustThe Kinky Boots boots sold recently at the Stately Car Boot
“We spoke with her for quite some time, and then found out that she lived about ten doors up from us. She came to church that afternoon with her husband and her teenage son, and all three of them came to faith, were baptised and confirmed within a year. We were able to support her through her mother’s death, and the grieving process with that, as well.”
The car-boot sale was seasonal. “We were there from Easter through to Hallowe’en time for three or four seasons,” she recalls. “The church grew through it. We also referred people to other churches.”
She remembers encountering “a little bit of hostility with people who didn’t agree with women in ordination. I was there as a woman wearing a dog collar, and a couple of people weren’t happy with that. We got to know some of the other stallholders. We were always next to a fellow that had lots of kids’ toys and a big inflatable slide. We got to know Big John quite well, and he asked us to pray for his family whenever somebody was poorly.
“People would come in and ask all kinds of random questions — ‘What’s the maximum number of bridesmaids I’m allowed at my wedding?’ Or ‘What’s the youngest godparents can be?’ — as well as questions of faith, and stories of life, as well. We kept a little tally sheet of encounters, and we never had less than 30 on a Sunday morning. That might have been somebody coming in to say hello or just light a candle.
“One Sunday, we had T-shirts that said ‘Free hugs’, and we had a little sign that said, ‘Have a free hug or a free sweet,’ and we had a big bowl of sweets and literally stood there. Our tally that day was about 160 people that we had conversations with. . . It was fantastic.”
CHURCH@CarBootSale in Chelmsford, Essex, began in a similar way in 2011, says its former chairman Martin Wilson. “The initiative was inspired by two ministers who were at a diocesan meeting,” he explains, “and someone pointed out that the biggest gathering of people in Essex on a Sunday wasn’t in a church, but at a car-boot sale, and that really spoke to them.
“So, they set wheels in motion. Church@CarBootSale evolved from a trailer with an urn on the back, to a quite well-kitted-out van with proper coffee machines. We sold the coffee — the farmer insisted that we sold it, because there were other concessions there that were selling food and drink. We had tables for people to sit, and sufficient members of the team that some were serving coffee and others went and sat with people as they were enjoying their coffee and chatting with them.”
Church@CarBootSale involved churches of all denominations from the area in working together, Mr Wilson says. “We offered prayer cards, and had meaningful conversations with visitors, collecting several prayer requests each week. We even had visits from [the then Bishop of Chelmsford] Stephen Cottrell, and, once, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was interested in these fresh expressions of church.”
Before Covid, the set-up needed “at least four volunteers per shift, sometimes more, to manage the set-up and serve coffee. We ran two shifts each Sunday, from early morning until noon. The [Anglican] ministers’ enthusiasm was crucial: they brought their congregations along, and their presence in dog collars lent credibility to our efforts. At its peak, about ten churches were involved.”
Things gradually changed, however. “After the original ministers moved on, the new vicars weren’t as engaged, and volunteer numbers dwindled, especially after the pandemic.
“Our presence was always clearly Christian, with a large cross and friendly service that stood out from other vendors. We didn’t hold services, but focused on being there for people, listening to their stories, and offering prayer. The experience taught me the importance of meeting people where they are, and engaging with the wider community. Although I was disappointed when we had to stop, I came to see that, sometimes, these efforts are for a season, and it was time to move on.”
MS TOMKINSON’s church grew, and, after three years, she was licensed as the parish priest of Mereside. She is now the Rector of Ribbleton, in Preston, Lancashire.
With the resurgence in popularity of both church and car-boot sales, faith communities may see a fresh opportunity to reach new communities, and Ms Tomkinson offers some advice: “If you’re thinking of trying something similar, there are practical things that you need to do and check. If you’re going to have a tent, you need to have a risk assessment for it. You need to think about things like the weather. If the wind was over 15 miles an hour, we didn’t put our tent up.
“We were very lucky in that the owners said we could come for free. I’ve heard of other people who have done similar, and they’ve had to pay for their stalls. So you’d need to think about how you would finance things like that.
“Overall, though, you’re representing the Church to hundreds and hundreds of people who may have never been to church. And you’re going to encounter people who may not have the same theology as you, but that’s one of the things we’ve always enjoyed about the breadth of the Church of England — or, indeed, the Christian faith: the fact that we all believe different things, but we all follow the same God. So, maybe put a smile on your face and give it a go. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Kinky boots in Norfolk
CAR-BOOT SALES have proven to be successful fund-raising ventures for churches and charities, including the Norfolk Churches Trust. Established in 1976, the trust is dedicated to preserving churches throughout Norfolk and the diocese of Norwich, providing support through both advice and grants.
Norfolk Churches TrustThe Stately Car Boot, in Norfolk, has become known for its unusual wares
The Stately Car Boot, known locally as “the poshest car-boot in Norfolk”, is held over the May Bank Holiday every three years at Sennowe Park, the Edwardian home of Thomas Albert Cook. Last year, £106,000 was raised for the work of the Trust, which has 12 Anglican churches directly in its care.
Delphine Steel, trustee and co-ordinator for all the Trust’s fund-raising events, said: “It’s a very popular event. Last year, we welcomed 10,000 visitors, and we have between 80 and 100 volunteers to make it happen. What’s attractive is the fact that it’s held in beautiful surroundings, right in front of the house, and, over the years, it’s become known for the interesting pieces being sold.”
Recent sales have included a pair of signed, red leather boots from the 2005 film Kinky Boots, which were bought for just £25. Other notable items include a John Galliano wedding dress, a vintage Cadillac, a British battleship flag, and a stuffed tiger’s head. Alongside the car-boot, there are usually a farmers’ market, a tea tent, music, and food stalls.
“A significant part of the fund-raising comes from the silent auction which we run every year,” Ms Steel said. “Last year, some of the lots were: a private tour of Sandringham, glamping at Raynham Hall, a sailing trip with Coastal Explorations.”
Communications and marketing work mean that the event is attended by tourists from the UK and beyond. All money raised goes to the restoration and repair of medieval churches in Norfolk.
norfolkchurchestrust.org.uk
More than a bargain
THE Vicar of St Paul’s, Weston-super-Mare, the Revd Craig Philbrick, reflects on a life-changing “God moment” that took place at a car-boot near his late father’s home.
“I love car-boot sales,” he says. “I think they are fabulous community events. They’re a real level playing field that can bring us all together. Everyone loves a bargain. It’s also great for the circular economy, recycling and reusing stuff. Everyone is relaxed, chatting, and unarmed. It’s just such a comfortable place to be. As kids, Dad would drag us around early in the Sunday morning to go and find bargains and various bits and bobs.
“In April 2015, during Easter weekend, my wife and I and some friends were down in Fordingbridge, Hampshire, visiting Dad, and we went to a car-boot sale. We were just wandering around, looking for bargains, and I started talking to this woman called Ruth. I didn’t know her name at the time; she was an older lady with white hair who was selling stuff from her house. She had her car and her little table, and we were just talking about her day, my day, and, very randomly, she said, ‘Are you a vicar?’
“I said, ‘No, I’m not.’ And she said, ‘Maybe you should be. I think God might be asking you to consider this.’ I was employed at a secular organisation at the time, and I really believed that God wanted me in London being ‘the weirdo for having a faith in Jesus’ in my workplace. I had actually considered [ordination], a few years previously — after I was fostered by my dad, who was a minister — but had decided I wasn’t church material.
“I wasn’t even attending an Anglican church at the time, and there I was, standing in a field in the New Forest, wondering what on earth was going on. I said, ‘Well, thank you very much, but no thanks.’ And I caught up with my wife, and told her, that lady thinks I should be a vicar. We both laughed.
“But, of course, that planted a seed. The timing of it all was completely wrong for all kinds of reasons: we’d had our first child, and had recently bought a house which needed a lot of work. In fact, when this happened, the roof had literally just been taken off our house. I started thinking: what if that is the call upon my life? I pondered on it for several months, and then sought to chat it through with a family friend who was the Bishop of Southampton at the time [Dr Jonathan Frost].
“In the summer of 2016, I was sent off for training at Wycliffe Hall. God had confirmed along the way that he did want me in the Church. And then, two years later, I went back to that car-boot sale. On the way there, Dad said, ‘Oh, do you know it was this weekend that, three years ago, you met that woman? And we did chuckle about it, as I was just about to be ordained deacon.
“So, again, we were walking around the car-boot sale. And the same lady came up to me and said, ‘Did you ever become a vicar?’ This time, I found out her name, and that she attended a Baptist church. I asked, ‘What made you say that to me three years ago?’ And she replied, ‘I just felt the Holy Spirit tell me that I needed to say that to you and challenge you.’
“Then I told her I was about to be ordained in the Church of England, and said, ‘Thank you, but why didn’t you say ‘Be an airline pilot,’ or something else, much more exciting?’
“I invited her to my ordination, but she said, ‘No, that’s a step too far.’ All I could say was ‘Thank you.’ In that moment, she encouraged me to think about more than a good salary and a steady job; about building God’s Kingdom instead of my own. I took a photo of us both to capture the moment — and was ordained into priesthood the following year.”