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Open to any offers on this. It would be a shame to see it go unused.

This is so true. My fave P weighs in at 6.8 lbs plays & sounds Fab, so I thought I would obtain a back up ‘just in case’ - Exactly the same model, same year, loom, pickups, stings - even the colour & yep you’ve guessed correctly - It was a lot heavier & sounded nothing like the other one🙈🙈!!

Set of original pre CBS bass tuners with sleeves and screws (I believe two of the screws are not original but exactly the same size). In great working order. I also have a pair of NOS CTS pots from 1964 (code 1376404), 500k audio taper with solid shafts ideal for P Bass or a Jaguar (if you want to tame the highs). £90 for both

Havibg a clearcut of pedals that I don't use. First up is my Darkglass Vintage Deluxe. In excellent condition with box and manual - £175 Second on the block is my Diamond BCP-1, the original with discreet components. Again in great condition with original box - £195 Third and final pedal is my EBS Valve Drive DI. Unused and as new - £185 All prices include postage in the UK

Nut width is 1.5” & it feels like a Jazz profile to my old hands.

Thank you, I couldn't have said it better myself.

Ah – entirely fair. You are, of course, correct. A picture is worth a thousand words. And words, however dutiful, can only gesture toward polymer and plush. So here they are in their natural habitat: mid-migration, flanked by their more extroverted cousins, maintaining their usual rectangular composure while the rest of life rearranges itself around them. Observe the setting: cardboard parapets, straps in mild disarray, the faint atmosphere of transition. And there they stand. Unperturbed. Rectangular. Matte. Emotionally stable. They are not staged beneath flattering studio lights. No velvet backdrops. No strategic houseplants. No attempts at seduction through lens flare. Documentary realism, bass-case vérité. You will notice something immediately: they do not compete for attention. They are above leaning theatrically, or mimic rock-and-roll excess. They simply exist with a certain utilitarian dignity. Their surfaces are clean. Their edges remain honest. The latches, though unphotographed in close-up here, retain the satisfying, almost municipal authority of well-made hardware. And yes, they are pictured among other cases. They have lived in the company of instruments. They have known wood and wire, and they discriminate against neither fellow ABS items nor wood and tweed. The attached images, however, should be understood as archival material. They date from their most recent documented journey (a house move of moderate logistical complexity) and captures them in situ, among fellow cases, cables, and cardboard ephemera. The reason they are archival is simple and humbling: they currently reside at the top of a closet, elevated beyond casual reach, in that high domestic stratum reserved for objects that are both useful and not immediately required. Retrieving them would involve a ladder, minor planning, and a level of initiative which, this morning, has not prevailed. But I hasten to add that bring their current altitude to your attention, as it means that they have are not strewn across floor or languishing in a damp basement. This reminds me that, many years ago, I purchased a bass that arrived encased not merely in plywood and plush, but in what can only be described as a self-governing biome. At first glance, the case appeared ordinary: tidy exterior, reasonably well-kept corners, the satisfaction of a bargain. Upon opening it – gently, with anticipation – there emerged not just the scent of nitro, but a humid declaration of sovereignty. The interior lining had developed a clear topography. There were pale constellations along the seams. A soft, speculative fuzz tracing the contours of the padding. In one corner, an ambitious colony had established what I can only assume was a capital city. The plush had taken on a faintly maritime fragrance – not, mind you, the romantic salt-spray of coastal air, but the resigned dampness of a forgotten cellar in late November. There was, unmistakably, life. Microscopic, industrious, collaborative life. I closed it. I reopened it, hoping the ecosystem might have reconsidered its tenancy. It had not. What followed was a period of quarantine, ventilation, and existential reflection. The bass survived. The case did not. Ever since, I have been vigilant. These two Thomann cases have known no such colonisation. Their interiors remain plush rather than tundra. No spores. No mycelial diplomacy. No soft, creeping frontier along the hinge line. If a prospective buyer requires contemporary verification, I can, with sufficient notice and encouragment, attempt to summit the wardrobe. I will then gather fresh close-ups of latches and plush. Until then, please accept this archival evidence, if not as a faithful representation of their condition, at least as a character reference.

I’m very much in the same boat. Ok so after a weigh in on the bathroom scales, it’s showing as 4.8kg. Hope that helps.