My granny had one of those ...

Just one of the phrases you hear time and time again when you have a stall at a vintage fair.

We've just got back from a lovely little vintage fair up in West Yorkshire, in a lovely town called Howarth.  Well known, of course, as the home and resting place of the Bronte family.

Our weekend began with packing the car with as many vintage bits and bobs as we could possibly squeeze in to our reliable little Peugeot - she used to it now, but doesn't really like all the swearing as we push and heave plastic boxes into her rear end.

We've normally got packing down to a fine art, but this time was different.  Hubby has refurbished some lovely old tables and was desperate to try them at the vintage fair.  This made a huge difference to the logistics of car packing.  I tried to leave him to it for a while, then was called in for the final push to secure the hatch.  Then off to bed in readiness for an exceptionally early alarm call at 4.30am.

By 5am we are on the road and aim to be in Howarth by 8am.  No problem you might think, but I don't know what it is about this part of the world, but no matter how many times we visit, we ALWAYS go a different way and end up getting lost and tempers frayed.

However, as there were virtually no cars or lorries on the motorways (seriously you should try travelling on a Bank Holiday Sunday at this time) we made good time and although took a wrong turning in Halifax, arrived at the Old School House, Howarth at  8.10am!!!

It's usually pot luck with fairs as to where you have been given a pitch, but we were exceptionally lucky with this fair.  Opposite the entrance (so that visitors see your stall first), next to the tearoom (visitors always sit drinking a cuppa admiring your stall and just HAVE to come and buy) and next to the emergency exit (saves having to lug all your boxes across the hall, up stairs, round the corner etc).

Hubby and I have a routine now, he unwraps, I place.  There finished, it's taken almost an hour and a half to get our little stall looking anything like presentable.  As always we've got far too much, but no problem - it's a two dayer so hopefully we can re-stock the next day.

Doors open and we wait.

And wait, and wait, and wait.  People are streaming in, having a nice cup of tea and a chat, but not buying?  We wait.  Three and a half hours later all we've taken is £3.50!  Hubby begins to get grumpy.  I try and pacify him by saying it's a weekend away and I'm not really worried about the takings. Hubby gets even more grumpy.

We have a scrummy bacon buttie, dripping with ketchup and our luck suddenly changes.  People want to talk (always difficult whilst trying to swallow buttie and wiping chin).  But what lovely people - from Yorkshire and all over the world.  And very knowledgeable they were too (willing to share all they know about things you're not sure about or want to know more about).

And they don't generally barter - something which we're so used to now that I find myself saying without any prompting - "It's £8 - but you can have it for £6" ?

End of day one and we have made our target figure - just. So as we collapse into bed at the local Premier Inn (money back if you don't have a good night's sleep - but there's no chance of that), we discuss our strategy for the next day.

Up early again to get to hall and put strategy into practice. We remove everything that didn't get any interest, replace with new stock and generally move everything around.  Much better, more time to think this morning.

Then we put part two of our strategy into action.  Talk, talk, talk to customers  (we were a bit jaded yesterday). "Morning - what's the weather doing out there?" "Where are you from?" "Do you have one of these ... tell me more".  And it paid off - we doubled our takings overnight!

Before we know where we are it's time to pack up.  Not the best job in the world, you have to do it in a hurry and don't have the luxury of time to wrap carefully - and despite all our sales (including tables) we still struggle to get everything back in the car. Done!

Why do we do it? Because we love it. We love the people, the challenge and the excitement of a new place and the unexpected.

Buy me, buy me ... tales from an auction room

Thursday and Friday are usually auction days for us -  Leamington and Stratford.

By this stage of the week, we've already visited the auction house the evening before and scoured the catalogue for those special finds. 

Where possible we always go along in person and look at all the items we have our eye on in the catalogue or online.  What seems like the perfect buy may have a couple of hairline cracks, chips or simply look awful in real life. They never tell you the condition of an item, bought as seen!

Once we've made our mind up about what we want to bid on, the fun begins.  Husband does the bidding otherwise I just wouldn't stop, and then it's a case of waiting for `our' lot to come up.

Butterflies in the stomach as the lot approaches.  You have to be quick and assertive. Adrenalin pumps, as the auctioneer announces the lot number and a description. 

Sometimes they get off to a flying start so you need to make yourself known if there are a few bidders. Husband usually raises his catalogue to get attention. I usually lower my eyes to the ground and hope for the best.  If everyone is playing it cool then the auctioneer will revise their original starting price - sometimes rediulously low, to get things going. Then it's all systems go. Ten, twelve, fifteen, eighteen pounds - the bids against you, should you go just one more. Dig in the ribs to husband - yes? no?

We got it! Euphoric.

We lost it. Deflated.

Once you've set your heart on something it's hard to let it go ... ... but there's always another auction, another treasure and another bargain to be had.

If you've not been to an auction, then go - it's so different from what you see on Flog it.

It's like any live event, it has atmosphere and characters and it's great fun just to watch proceedings.