Not sure I thought this is what I would be writing about today - but here I am on Chesterfield Market as a stall holder.  It a mixture of bric a brac, books and political emphera with a bit of promo for a local campaign I'm working on to bring home to the town some medals from a Derbyshire solder of World War One.

But the bit that is most fascinating for me was my own nervousness and the opportunities for learning, trading and of course the ever-fascinating people watching.

Last night, the night before my first stall was a curious period of over-preparation - I have stashed away plastic bags, bungee ropes, elastic bands, plastic sheeting (which I actually forgot), pens, paper and more.  This morning was a mirror panic of readiness as I rose at 6am, to unload the shed ready for my mate with his car and the crates I had pre-stacked.

And so to Market - once here the stall allocation was pretty straightforward, the staff fairly helpful and it was over to me... there are stratifications of people I realise - the ones who arrive as you unload, the fellow traders looking to haggle, the early arrivals, the one who come early and are around the market square all day and then those who come for other reasons (food shopping and the like).

The other perception I have after today is of how I can now unfairly generalise about goes for what - older people touch everything and study it, young people stand back, men browse the books physically, women are more discerning about glass and porcelian - and then those who are inscrutable and try to pretend to be uninterested when in fact they want something you are selling.

I've done this a bit before at the feet of my parents when I was very young who did antique fairs for years - but even so, despite that, in the course of effectively 12 hours I have learn, reminded myself and recalled a huge amount.  Will I be here again - yes definitely - but slightly different, learning the lessons and welcoming the punters. See you next week.