All the fun of the Antiques Fair

They file past and some even cast admiring glances at the items on display, often commenting that Grandma 'had one of those'.

Mostly their hands are deep in their pockets or their arms are folded. They look downwards, rarely in your direction.

So, you're never quite sure which 'one of those' they mean. After all, you've just set out around 100 'of those' on your display. Then comes a clue. 'But I don't do polishing.'

OK. So that narrows it down a bit, to around 15 items at the most. And actually madam, polishing those items more than once every year or so, is the worst thing you can do.

They continue to file past. The comments continue as well. 'Oh, look, I haven't seen one of those for years.' 'What do you think that is? I'm sure Grandad had one.' 'We had one - it was better than that.'

Standing behind the display, with a slow moving line of people shuffling past, I'm never sure whether I'm a volunteer in a museum or I'm lying in state. I think it's mostly the latter. It's the slow moving line of shufflers that convinces me.

And then, just as I'm about to say something rather rude or sarcastic to the next antiques' expert who shuffles by, I hear a voice.

'Excuse me, how much could this be?' The voice is holding aloft one of my favourite items of stock. Their question is an improvement on my growing sense of lying in state; it's also an admission they're not willing to pay the price on the ticket.

I'm quick to reply (and in a very pleasant manner) and reduce the price as much as I can. Then they suggest half the amount I've said. At this point, I usually feel my blood pressure rising and my spirits falling - both very rapidly.

The unhappy truth is that a significant number of people think that reducing ticket prices to levels at which the vendor constantly loses money, is the way the antiques trade loves to do business and remain profitable.

Sadly, for everyone involved, it isn't. It's simply what people have come to expect from an Antiques Fair, watching too many TV programmes featuring antiques; you know the ones I mean, those with a competitive element, which encourage stupid offers and acceptances.

I'm not sure why anyone thinks it's a good business strategy. I've tried it myself, because I wanted to prove a point.

But I tried it in a supermarket. I held aloft a loaf of bread and a tin of sardines, and enquired in a loud voice what the best price would be if I generously bought both items. It didn't work but, far from discouraged, I did the same thing in a chemists, when I needed to buy laxatives and painkillers.

And, for good measure and because I'm a bloody minded antiques dealer who refuses to let go, I tried it on again when I was buying a train ticket. (I refrained against adopting the 'best price' tactic, when I was fined for speeding.)

Why does the antiques industry continue to haggle on prices? It's already in a downward spiral: struggling High Street footfall, falling prices and smaller crowds at fairs. If dealers are prepared to haggle - or even enjoy haggling - then so be it. But, please, let's keep it at a sensible level. Let's not make a loss or just give it away.

At a fair not long ago, a potential customer held up an item and said:

'It says £15 on the ticket. What could it be?'

I smiled. '£20?'