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and Thérence, by which time I presumed that her stall would have expanded as she bought
up everyone else's stock in a brocante version of Monopoly.
The plan had been to arrive late-morning with the others and have lunch with Natalie and
Maurice, but I hadn't bargained on Samuel's hereditary desire to buy other people's discarded
dross and we were back within the hour to see the place in full swing.
What became particularly apparent as Samuel, Thérence and I walked through the market
was that everybody seemed to be selling the same stuff; every stall, including ours, had a
pram, a baby-walker and/or high chair, a selection of baby clothes, naked Action Man dolls
and a broken first bike. It was like a car boot sale the day after King Herod's rampage.
'Have you sold anything?' I asked as we approached Natalie and Maurice. They looked at
each other conspiratorially.
'We've had some enquiries,' Natalie replied, with what is presumably sales-talk euphemism
for 'no'.
A man approached the stall at the same time we did and picked up my old wheelie, multi-
compartment, international travel computer case and asked how much. Under her breath,
Natalie said that he'd been there three times already but that she refused to go lower than €8.
'Eight euros!' I shouted, 'That thing is in mint condition and it cost me fifty quid!' I turned to
the man angrily and was about to tell him to clear off when Samuel interrupted.
'Four euros,' he said.
'What?!'
'Done,' said the man coolly, totally ignoring Natalie and me.
'What the—' I began.
'We've got to get this thing started,' Samuel replied and skipped off with my €4.
I suppose he had a point, though his argument was somewhat undermined when he returned
ten minutes later with a selection of Star Wars fridge magnets that he'd purchased for a 'bar-
gain' €4. A friend of Samuel's then turned up and asked how much Samuel wanted for his
Dragonball Z books.
'Two euros each,' Samuel said, enjoying his role as entrepreneur. There were eight books
and his friend clearly didn't want to pay that much.
'Four euros, the lot,' I said and pocketed the money quickly as Samuel started to protest.
'Now you've got it started, son, we've got to keep the momentum going.'
It was a long, frustrating morning. The stall was in the full sun and it was draining our spir-
its; mine particularly, as I watched the 'must-have' toys of a couple of years ago be sold for
50c. I mean really, I searched high and low for that James Bond car, it cost me a fortune and
I remember Samuel's face when I gave it to him; it was the world to him at the time and now
'It's just a toy, Daddy.' The Bob the Builder bicycle, both Samuel and Maurice's first bike, got
a lot of enquiries but nobody would pay more than €5. Five euros! I mean it's a bloody bike,
I thought, it works for God's sake, you tight bastards - and yet they'd just look at you like
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