Of The Business of Car Booting

I went to a car boot sale this morning. Hundreds of entrepreneurs in one place - my kind of place. I arrived at 7.30a.m.and it was already busy. Dark but busy. The car booters were setting up with miner's lamps on their head. Early bird customers were shining torches through the car windscreens belonging to newly arrived traders to get first sight of any bargains.

I soon bumped into my early bird swimming friends Bruce and Walter who pick their way through the stalls every Saturday morning looking for stuff that as far as I can see goes straight into one of their sheds at home. Walter had bought his grandson a water pistol for £1. He told me his grandson expects a gun of some description every time his grandad goes car booting. Bruce had bought his third barbecue set for £5. He said he'd have to smuggle it into his shed once his wife was out, fearing she'd go ballistic if she realised he'd bought another one. After 2 hours of intensive shopping and negotiating they stopped for a break eating tea and scones out the back of their space cruiser before returning for one last run in search of those stalls keen to get rid of their gear at any price.