The Junk Shop & Spread Eagle

Want to buy a buoy? No, not a male child, but a buoy, a flotation device used by coastguards to set safety markers in the ocean to protect swimmers and boaters and surfers from straying into unsafe waters. At The Junk Shop and Spread Eagle, you can do just that. You can walk in, go up the creaky stairs in the main entrance, past the bayonets and lamps and assorted knick knacks, squeeze by the till person and pass between the watch display cases on the right and magazine shelves on the left, onwards beyond the resident Yorkshire terrier's living quarters, through the heavy door attached to the ringing bell of the Spread Eagle tea rooms - from there you buy coffee and cake, or a cool glass of beer, and push on further out into the secret garden courtyard, whereupon you may sit down at a table next to an old tiled stone fireplace that has a buoy sitting atop - then you can look at the price tag of the buoy, buy the buoy, and boy and boy you can go home, spirits buoyed, with a buoy under your arm! 

Should you care to, you could buy that aforementioned fireplace too, and that chair you sat down on and all. It's not so much, 'Everything must go!' as it is 'Literally anything can go!" at this Greenwich junk shop. The tiny little cafe, which is full of intriguing little trinkets and artwork - presumably all for sale - definitely sets it apart from other antiques emporiums in London, giving you reason to relax and reflect. Instead of rushing through to see all of the stuff, just to view it, you can really browse, and lounge mid-way through your scavenging session, either in a cosy corner or outside in the mini beer garden, which also has an alternative passage that leads into the Spread Eagle's basement, which is of course chock full of every oddity and collectible under the sun. 

The absolute top find, above all the ivory-hilted canes, ancient whiskey decanters, and African sculptures of possible voodoo origin, was a battery powered 'Hippity Hop Frog' plush toy that played and bopped along to a cacophonous recording of 50 Cent's 'In Da Club' when you pressed a button on its left...hand? Pad? Who knows. Gangster rap, baby.