Now that's a bargain.

It’s like the first Cuckoo call at the beginning of May.

“Shall we go to the carboot ?” she asked last Sunday morning. That inevitable little question we hear at this time of the year.

“But it’s going to rain, look at those clouds”, I try.

“We’ve got an umbrella, and you’ve just bought that new waterproof coat with a hood “, she reposts.

(Second attempt, try sympathy). “My knee's playing up a bit, I don’t think I’m quite up to it you know”.

“Rubbish, the walk will do it good, it’ll only seize up sat in that chair all day”. So much for sympathy then.

I thought of trying the Icelandic volcano as a last resort, but that might make it too obvious that I didn’t really want to go.

It’s nine o’clock, and on entering the field a wonderful aroma of mixed animal bits fried in rancid grease gets up my nostrils, and I can’t shift it all the time I’m there. Surely nobody’s eating them at this time of the morning I thought. But it’s not long before we’re passing a family scoffing burgers, that could only be described as biology lessons in a bun with cheese on. In a touching scene I catch sight of dad breaking a bit off for the dog, which helpfully licks his fingers clean, then breaking some more off for the toddler in the push chair.

Snaking our way around the tables full of this now unwanted ephemera, it strikes me how much rubbish we buy in our lives. There are countless figurines of sad little old men and women sat on benches, plates with flowers on and jugs from Majorca (didn’t it used to be Skegness).

I’m struck by how positive these sellers are, real “glass half full” types, because most of it would be better off in a skip quite frankly. I mean, who wants a rusty old Sky dish, or a jigsaw puzzle proudly labelled with, “Only one piece missing”.

At last something interesting, there’s a stall selling tomato plants, not that I need any as I’ve grown my own this year. It’s a bloody good job as well, 70p they wanted for them, and they weren’t even labelled up which variety they were. Daylight robbery if you ask me.

Sometimes there are bargains to be had and I suppose that’s what drives us to go to these events, but bargains are quite a subjective thing when you think about it. For instance I’d be very happy to find an old rake for a quid, and you might even squeeze another 50p out of me if it had a handle.

At a car boot I went to last year, a young lady I overheard speaking very loudly to her other half on her mobile, really summed it up.

“I’ve just picked up a brilliant breast pump for a fiver”, she told him delightedly !