A practice my friend and I would often do... I never had a record player, but it was so therapeutic - I swear! Going to the masses of sleeved unwanted at the op-shop, edges so thin you could never tell what music it was until you uncovered it. Standing over crate after crate, and perfecting the 'flick': to reveal one vinyl after the other.
The best bit was when after all the crap, something brilliant would appear. It was almost 3 levels of joy: at one point you were happy to just come across any name you knew. Then it was even better to come across Bach or Debussy and all my other favourite classical music composers. And life was golden when the Beatles or Frank Sinatra came around....
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