I also found the little blue jug, or one identical to it, that I had just sold for five pounds. On this stall it was marked at forty-five. I looked around to see if I could spot the lady with the fur hat but she wasn’t anywhere in evidence. Perhaps she’d seen me coming and was hiding. Anyway, it was my own fault. I’d stepped into a minefield for the unwary, with very little knowledge to protect me.

Chastened, I wandered away into the hangar, which, although it was really a draughty building open to the elements at both ends, felt like a cocoon of warmth compared with the chill outside. I headed for the loo. I’d brought my washbag with me so that I could freshen up. I don’t bother with much make-up at any time, but at four in the morning the best I could manage was to splash water on my face and clean my teeth. So I stood in front of the mirror, flicked my lashes with a mascara brush and rubbed on some lip gloss. After a brief struggle, I gave up my hair as a bad job and went to the cafe, where I bought two breakfast rolls stuffed with egg and bacon, carrying them away on a precariously flimsy cardboard tray.

Inside the hangar, the stalls were in a different class. None of your shabby-chic, tin advertising signs in here, none of your Star Wars memorabilia. Here were the rare collectables: gold watches, silver and precious jewellery, fragile furniture, fine porcelain and crystal that couldn’t be risked out in the windy weather, rare books and maps, samplers, bisque dolls, fans and old lace. Everything was gleaming, sparkling, delicate and fine. Feeling like a poor relation, I hurried on outside. I didn’t want our breakfast to get cold.

But before I reached the door, I was forced to make a detour. I heard a loud laugh close by me and spotted a face I recognised. It was he of the Piano Teeth, who’d been all over me at the auction viewing. Reluctant to be the victim of another ogling or damp clinging handshake, I swerved, dodging behind a row of stalls. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about his spotting me. His attention was fully engaged by a voluptuous young woman, discussing a large brass plate, which, I noticed, she was holding up in front of her like a shield.

‘Oh, you beauty!’ Paul exclaimed as I returned. I would have liked to think he meant me, but his eyes were fixed firmly on his bacon and egg roll.

We munched in companionable silence. A well-stuffed bacon and egg roll is not an easy thing to eat with any delicacy and requires concentration, not conversation. When I’d finally chomped my last and licked my fingers, I told him about seeing the jug, and Piano Teeth.