The appeal of the event is pretty obvious: fresh-picked strawberries and rich local cream; cheap plants grown locally; a tombola and raffle. All clearly appealing things. But the real draw, and the real mystery to me, is bric-a-brac.
They were waiting, you see. They were lurking outside, gathered furtively at the gate while the unloading and setting up and organising was going on. They knew what time it started. And they knew where they wanted to go.
At the stroke of 3pm, they were in. Past the strawberries they went, and past the tombola. They didn't divert to the plants or the raffle. No. They were the bric-a-brac hordes, and nothing would stop them. A bounty of china Christmas trees, bed warmers, stringless guitars and old plates awaited, and they would plunder.
Us? We had tea and scones. Mmmm.
adders 
Ah, what a good son you are! Seth had better do things like this with me when he’s all grown up.
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