
Tallaght Car Boot Sale
🧭Every Saturday
🌒All Year Round
🍳Tallaght Stadium, Dublin
🍳Ballymun, Dublin
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Picture a Sunday morning where you’re up with the dawn, itching for a rummage that won’t cost you a penny to join—Ballymun Car Boot Sale is the spot. Tucked into Trinity Comprehensive Secondary School on Ballymun Road, near the County Council offices and shopping centre, this long-running gem kicks off every Sunday from 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM, all year round. I’ve been hooked on this place for years—grabbing a warm bun from the catering stall, rooting through piles of goodies, and soaking up the early Dublin buzz. Free for the public, parking included, and no booking needed—it’s a rare treat.
Whether you’re a seller with a carload of spares or a buyer after a deal, it’s got a proper local pull. Let’s have a yarn—I’ll walk you through why Ballymun’s a Sunday cracker. Grab a brew, and let’s dive in!
♥ Public admission is free.
♥ Catering and refreshments are available.
♥ Toilet facilities are also available.
♥ No need to book in advance.
♥ Parking is available.
♦ Every Sunday 6:00 am to 12:00 pm
♦ Every Week ♦ All Year Round
♦ Entry Time: 6:00 AM
♦ Entry Fee: Free.
♦ Entry Time: 7:00 am to 8:30 am
♦ Entry Fee: £25 for spaces and a half. No vans bigger than a Peogeot partner and no trailer allowed.
Ballymun Car Boot Sale,
Trinity Comprehensive Secondary School,
Ballymun Road,
County Council offices and shopping centre.
Ballymun Car Boot Sale is a Dublin dawn ritual that’s been calling me back year after year, no matter the weather. Every Sunday from 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM, Trinity Comprehensive Secondary School on Ballymun Road—right by the County Council offices and shopping centre—transforms into a bustling bargain haven. I love the early hush here, broken by the clatter of cups from the catering stall and the rustle of stalls coming alive.
It’s free for the public to wander in from 6:00 AM—no entry fee, no parking cost, just show up. Sellers roll in from 7:00 AM to 8:30 AM, £25 for a space and a half, but keep it small—no vans bigger than a Peugeot Partner, no trailers. With toilets, parking, and refreshments all sorted, it’s set for a smashing morning—here’s what you’ll stumble into.
Ballymun’s lineup is a joy—like a Dublin loft spilled out for all to see. You’ll find bits that spark your interest, like a dented tin I nabbed that’s now my biscuit keeper, or a chipped saucer that’s ace for plants. Furniture’s a highlight—perhaps a rickety stool you can spruce up, or a tough little cabinet with years left in it. Clothes heap up—baby booties, old wool coats, or a pair of kicks I’ve worn through rain.
I’ve picked up quirks that start chats, like a fistful of vintage GAA badges or a creaky toy horn that still toots. Seasons shake it up—plant trays in spring, tinsel by winter. It’s a rummager’s dream, and you’ll grab something with a tale.
Ballymun’s got a knack for Dublin-made treasures that give it heart. You’ll spot local crafts—maybe a whittled keyring or a knit hat that’s pure warmth. Eats are a bonus—I’ve snagged jars of sharp pickle and hunks of soda bread that melt with a dab of butter. Irish relics shine too, like a scuffed hurling stick or a photo of Ballymun’s towers that’s all soul. One seller once shared how her nan baked the buns she was peddling—those Dublin roots make every find sing. It’s more than a sale; it’s a peek into local life.
The stallholders at Ballymun are a lively bunch, each tossing in their own twist. You’ll see setups brimming with handmade gear—perhaps a painted tile or a stitched purse—next to a stack of faded comics. Retro threads pull you in; I nabbed a fleece here that’s my winter shield. Some rework old bits—think a patched-up box turned funky, snapped up quick. Then there’s the enthusiasts—like the fella with a sprawl of fishing lures, eager to yarn, or the lass with Dublin keepsakes who knows every street. Their mix keeps it buzzing, far from your average market.
Selling at Ballymun’s a doddle—just pull in between 7:00 AM and 8:30 AM, no booking hassle. It’s £25 for a space and a half—keep it to cars or small vans like a Peugeot Partner, no trailers allowed—and I’ve set up here, shifting spare cushions and a knackered radio. The early crowd’s keen, pouring in from 6:00 AM thanks to the free entry, so you’re in for a brisk morning with Dublin’s warm welcome.
Ballymun’s sellers are a hearty crew, mirroring Dublin’s everyday grit. You’ve got locals clearing their clutter—crates of board games, piles of duvets they’ve swapped out, or a trowel they’ve no use for. The Sunday faithful turn up too, lugging fresh hauls each week. I’m partial to the regulars—like the chap with a hoard of old keys, or the gran with a stack of toddler togs. I’ve traded tales with a retired cabbie shedding his logs, a pair trimming post-move, and a grower with extra seedling trays. They’re here to shed or earn, and their friendliness turns every stall into a quick catch-up.
Some sellers linger in your thoughts long after you’ve left. One frosty dawn, I met a bloke with a trove of old ticket stubs—snippets of Dublin gigs that hooked me. There’s a regular woman too, her stall aglow with hand-dipped candles—one’s been my night light since. Then there’s the hushed antique trader, slipping out gems like a silver fork or a Ballymun flats snap that’s pure history. They’re not just moving stock—they’re handing over a bit of their story, making each chat a wee adventure.
Ballymun’s got a glow that’s hard to pin—early, hearty, and steeped in Dublin’s charm, all year round. That 6:00 AM start brings a quiet dawn that builds into a cheerful noon buzz.
Walk in, and you’re part of the gang—old-timers flash a grin, and stallholders toss a “how’s it going?” like you’re one of them. Families saunter by, kids waving free-entry finds, while keen hunters scour for gold. Youngsters grab gear for their rooms, and elders linger over bits that spark old memories. I’ve seen newbies slip into the banter with sellers—it’s Dublin’s open-armed way. Free for all, it’s a Sunday haven where everyone fits.
No grand fanfare here, but Ballymun’s got its own magic. The catering corner dishes up hearty bites—maybe a sausage bap or a hot brew to shake off the chill. Toilets are close, parking’s free, and the real kick’s in the hum—little ones skipping with their loot, a barter breaking into chuckles, and the steady drone of a market waking up. It’s humble but feels like a Dublin breakfast with extra craic.
Ballymun keeps it fuss-free—you’ve got all the essentials for a cracking morning.
Dublin’s got plenty to stretch your Sunday. The Ballymun shopping centre’s a hop away—grab a coffee or a bite from its cafes after rummaging. Small shops are close too—perfect for a battery for that clock you’ve nabbed or a quick snack. The school’s near green patches—great for a breather or a wander with the kids post-stalls.
Parking’s free and wide open—pull in and you’re set, no coins needed. The school grounds are flat, so it’s easy for buggies or creaky knees, though rain might mean muddy toes—boots if it’s wet. Toilets are on hand, and the no-booking vibe keeps it loose—show up and you’re sorted, whether buying or selling.
Ballymun’s got a spark that’s kept me hooked, and I’ve seen enough markets to spot a winner.
Unlike boots that charge entry or shut in winter, Ballymun’s free-for-all and year-round run make it a gem. Its haul of goods tops tiny sales, and that Dublin grit outshines the bland. Free entry pulls a crowd from 6:00 AM, and it’s a steal—value and vibe that’s tough to beat.
Ballymun’s a fine base for a Dublin day out. A short jaunt lands you at Glasnevin Cemetery—history in every stone, perfect for a quiet wander after browsing. The Botanic Gardens are close too—lush green for a breather or a picnic if it’s mild. Finglas Village is nearby—cosy pubs or a quick bite to round off your morning. Turning your Ballymun trip into a Dublin jaunt’s a cinch—loads to see and a proper treat.
Ballymun keeps its Sunday beat steady all year, with little twists to keep it fresh.
That 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM run’s a staple, but some Sundays bring a bit more. I’ve hit a bustling summer morn with extra stalls, and a winter one with a community vibe—folks chipping in for a local cause. They’re not fixed, but when they spark, they’re a delight—more to explore and a hearty feel.
Year-round means Ballymun shifts with the seasons. Spring unfurls gardening gear—shovels, pots, new starts. Winter slips in festive bits—think baubles or cheap toys. I’ve spotted Easter trinkets one week, Halloween odds the next—small nods that keep it lively for kids and early birds.
Here’s my take on Ballymun Car Boot Sale—a Dublin star from years of dawn rambles. It’s a free-entry haven at Trinity Comprehensive, bursting with finds and local soul. Seek out quirks, grab a bun, or bask in the hum—it’s a winner. I’ve found gems here, yarned with sellers like pals, and savoured the early glow. Hit Ballymun Road any Sunday, 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM—no fee, just a bag. You’ll walk off with a prize and a grin.
No booking is required.
It opens Every Sunday event running all year round, operating from 6:00 am to 12:00 pm.
It opens between 6:00 am to 12:00 pm.
The event takes place Every Sunday event running all year round, operating from 6:00 am to 12:00 pm.
Opens Every Sunday event running all year round, operating from 6:00 am to 12:00 pm.
They charge £25 for spaces and a half. No vans bigger than a peogeot partner and No trailer allowed.
The Car Boot Sale runs Every Sunday event running all year round, operating from 6:00 am to 12:00 pm.
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🌒All Year Round
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