By Chris Ackrill 
Earlier this year, Sue, who was running a stall alongside mine at an antiques fair, told me about an amazing car
boot sale. She said she always finds lots of stuff to sell at fairs, and it’s where those in the know go to get their stock. She said there are bargains to be had because the sellers do house clearances and don’t want to come home without empty vans. Sue specialises in brooches and ceramics, while I focus on antique silver and jewellery; so I wasn’t sure it’d have the same appeal to me. Still, I knew I had to try it someday.
When I woke up at 4.20 one Wednesday and the wife was snoring, I figured the time was right to spend my morning walking around a windy field in Essex.
Leaving Leighton Buzzard, Bedfordshire, at 5am, I arrived at the site in Marks Tey at 6.30. I wanted to get there soon after the 6am opening because Sue said there’s no point turning up at 10am expecting the good stuff.
There were burger vans, and a single plastic toilet of the type you get at beer festivals. There was a field full of tables heaving with a vast array of goods. The tables were supplemented by items on ground sheets. Most dealers had vans by their pitches, allowing them to unload heavy items easily. Someone was offering up a piano.
Many customers had also arrived in vans, so why not?
As a subculture of antique fairs, the set-up was familiar, though a bit more basic and street level. You might find a door for a Cortina, but not necessarily a Georgian fish slice. I didn’t expect a lot of quality, but there were a few cabinets containing silver, and quite a few interesting pieces on a diverse variety of stalls. There was a lot of garden equipment and plants, and lots of electrical items and tools – often vintage (ie. old). About fifteen blokes scurried around while a large van was being unloaded. I went in for a closer look, but I didn’t see anything interesting: old CDs and mysterious bits of metal mostly. It was only blokes crowding around the tables.
This type of set-up attracts the un-reconstructed male, while I guess I’m a victim of emasculation in that I find scented candles more interesting than old tools and car parts.
Business was conducted briskly and er, business-like. Price negotiations were going on all around me, in an unapologetic way. Similar to those at an antiques fair, but maybe a bit more direct. I’m comfortable with this, having bought carpets in Istanbul and Marrakech.
I bought two silver necklaces for £60. I’d expect to pay £100 at an antiques fair.
As at an antiques fair, there was stuff there that you didn’t think you wanted and didn’t know you could still buy: some 1970s Jaco roller skates, a wine box shaped like a guitar, mirrors for 1970s cars. There would be a buyer for these items out there somewhere. Nobody likes leaving a fair empty-handed, but you could always leave happy after buying a cheap house plant. You could buy an orange tree if you had a greenhouse; though you could probably buy a greenhouse there if you needed one. It was certainly a good place for garden equipment, with lots of plants at good prices. One stallholder specialised in second-hand lawn mowers. Perhaps with engines that aren’t ordinary lawnmower engines, but broken ones, like those Rodney Trotter once bought. It certainly had the feel of a fair that Del and Rodney would be familiar with. It was an interesting experience seeing the sharp end of retail close up. You have to dig deep for quality, but it’s all out there in fields up and down our country.
