It’s 5am, and I pull over on the bridge over the river to photograph a pink full moon in the dawn light. It’s market day, which means a very early start, but it’s easy on summer mornings like this. Dealers watch the sunrise over the racecourse with steaming coffee whilst unloading the vans, but they’ve been there since way before me.

This was my life for a while. A little space in an antique shop, and regular sourcing trips to find treasures. My favourite old things are time-worn handwritten letters, old books, and battered oil paintings, but really, I just love anything with a story. Anything old.

The moment you pick up an object of someone else’s from 200 years ago, you feel connected to their life. I always thought this was part of my wild imagination or sentimental nature, but there’s real research behind it.

UCL ran an incredible study, Heritage in Hospitals, led by Helen Chatterjee, which found that handling museum objects lifted patients’ wellbeing. It later led to the publication of Heritage in Health, a guide to using museum collections in hospitals and other healthcare settings.

There’s a lot to be said for antique dealing. The early start with the dog, sometimes by torchlight, haggling, and the community of dealers. It’s a way of life. Older dealers have told me on more than one occasion that they had more money when they began 30 years ago!

You don’t do it for the money – well, I suppose some do, but walking the markets in the rain or on a summer’s morning under a candyfloss sky, I know it’s the people and things that keep the dealers doing what they do. You have to love it. You have to be intrigued by where something came from and how it often mirrors your own roots.  

Nothing will ever convince me that this trade isn’t a good way of life. All the dealers I’ve ever connected with love what they do, and I believe it’s because they wake up each day to a new story, with every piece they discover.