The early bird catches the bed warmer and a stuffed penguin

IHAVE no idea how Hermione persuaded Persephone to rise from her bed so early on a Sunday morning. Our daughter generally prefers to skip breakfast on the Sabbath, condescending to appear in time for a late brunch. Puck her in the ribs and she is likely to become violent. Call into her ear at close range and she will haul the duvet over her head affecting stubborn deafness.

My eyes were still on the bleary side as I pottered into the kitchen to find the womenfolk already tucking into buttered toast, both fully alert and full of the joys. Hermione, fresh-asmorning-dew Hermione, waved a dictatorial hand at the tea pot and told me to get a move on…

Weekends have not been the same since she conceived the desire to fill our lives with copper Victorian style copper bed-warmers. We have no actual need whatsoever of bed-warmers at Medders Manor as we are amply endowed with hot water bottles and electric blankets. Even visitors unfortunate enough to be assigned sleeping quarters in the remotest extremity of the creaking East Wing are guaranteed warmth between the sheets.

These Victorian style copper bed-warmers are being acquired as part of a campaign to bring a new look to the décor of the family home. A new but old-fashioned look. So the plan is to have Victorian style copper bed-warmers over the mantelpieces, bed-warmers nailed to the walls along every corridor, and bed-warmers strewn in quiet corners. Our requirement for second-hand Victorian style copper bed-warmers is currently running on a par with the demand for Kalashnikov sub-machine guns in a medium sized African republic.

‘ There are bound to be bed-warmers at the flea market,’ declared our director of early morning operations. ‘ The trick is to be there before someone else snaps up all the really good stuff.’ So we clambered into The Jalopy with our varying degrees of enthusiasm and off with us to the Our Town flea market.

The flea market is not actually in Our Town, by the way, as there is no space large enough in the urban area to accommodate such an institution. It springs up weekly in a couple of fields on the outer outskirts, one field for the stalls and one field for the parking. The parking field already held at least a hundred vehicles when we arrived and paid our three euro entrance fee to the woman at the gate.

Once inside we found scores of stalls selling all manner of stuff. This was retail in the raw, with no shape or make, no logic or limit, to the goods on offer. Lawn-mowers, lunch-boxes, linen jackets, leprechauns. Many of the stall-holders did not bother with actual stalls, simply spreading their wares on the ground.

Roses (climbing or Cadbury’s), roosters (potatoes or poultry), rugs (for homes or for horses), rubbish (utter or unadulterated). The range of old tat on display in this bazaar was beyond bizarre, and the range of customers was equally varied. Buggy pushing parents seeking cheap jars of baby mush rubbed shoulders with plainclothes detectives watching for stolen drill sets and counterfeit DVD’s. Middle-aged couples tested the mechanisms of ancient nautical barometers while young women egged on friends to try on outrageously high heeled shoes.

We peered into boxes full of Chelsea Football Club mugs, only slightly chipped. We examined crate loads of glass lamp-shades and ash-trays and candle holders. The one thing we never laid eyes on in an hour and a half at the Our Town flea market was a Victorian style copper bed-warmer. Tins of out-of-date mandarin oranges, yes. Cuddly toys in the form of enormous penguins, yes. Dog-eared copies of ‘Angela’s Ashes’, yes beyond counting. Bed-warmers, no. Not one.

‘We will just have to get up earlier next week,’ declared Hermione as we drove home, her ever pretty lips puckered in frustration. I nodded absent-mindedly as I nursed a set of ZZ Top CD’s bought for a couple of euro to be played full volume on long solo journeys.

‘Mmm,’ responded Persephone vaguely, already engrossed on the back seat in a pristine copy of ‘ The Fault in Our Stars’ which cost her all of 50 cent.