Rain, Rain Go Away - Fiona Shoop hides from the British Weather

I do have a reasonable excuse for not being at a fair today unlike the majority of people who stay away from such events just because of a little rain. Rain is only bad for you if you're the Wicked Witch of the West and you won't melt unless you know something I don't?

I reviewed Antiques in the Park at Sandringham recently and, despite the quality of the stock and the organiser, I went on the last day which was very quiet and all because of the weather. It appears that we go into hiding as soon as the skies turn grey which, in Britain , is most of the time. One of my best ever fairs as a dealer was a rain-swept Shepton Mallet where you could scarcely hear the customers above the howling of the wind and the drumming of the rain. It was quite orchestral and the best thing was that the only people who came to the fairs were serious buyers and they spent a fortune. Dealers sold incredibly well to the captive audience who could not drive away until the rain calmed down. It was the height of the summer and absolutely freezing but I've been in this business too long not to take a jumper with me everywhere I go.

Well, almost everywhere. I once stalled out at Oxford Market, a true gem for antiques lovers every Thursday. It was summer, I was hopeful and took a large-brimmed hat. That would have been sensible if I hadn't been sitting under an awning and the sun just couldn't get to me. It was so cold and, at that point, I admitted something which I'd been trying to deny for a long, long time. I am precious . I am not a natural outside dealer. Oh sure, I do boot sales most years, armed with suntan cream, hat and plenty of water but that's different. That's a half day and I'm in the pub for Sunday lunch as soon as it opens.

I can't do market dealing anymore. I don't even like stalling outside at fairs, not since the stall opposite me rose to a majestic height at Swinderby, hovered in the air for a few wistful seconds and then came crashing down to earth with a shattering cry of glass. Who could have predicted that the hurricane would choose to visit our row? I sat there watching the stock and the poor stallholder and then looked up as the first fat drops came to rest on my stall. My lovely labels, painstakingly full with details of makers, dates and prices, were ruined as I frantically tried to beat the rain - and failed. Weather, who needs it?

Hurricanes are scarily common at fairs but floods are quite rare. I managed to miss one fair which had a stream right down the centre - it hadn't been there when everyone set up and, so I understand, made an attractive, if somewhat unwelcome, feature. But I was unfortunate enough to have a spring bubbling away under my stall at another venue. The large pond which it formed proved to be a deterrent for customers as not even my best stock was deemed worthy enough to risk ruining shoes. Fortunately, the organisers were well-prepared for all eventualities and I felt like a queen when they produced some red carpet which not only covered the pond but made a rather impressive entrance to my stall. Wiping the soggy mud off my boxes at the end of the day, I did think that, red carpet or not, I would rather have stalled out on a dry day or in a waterproof hall.

And I cursed the British weather before every Ally Pally ( Alexandra Palace to smarter readers) when I'd arrive at 5am , or even earlier, to secure one of the few undercover spots in the queue. While everyone else was sleeping, I'd be lovely and dry, if somewhat knackered (a technical term) and would feel fully justified, three hours later, when the doors finally opened to hundreds of soggy dealers - and a few dry ones.

It's a strange trade. Too much rain and no one goes too fairs. Too much sun and no one comes out to buy - apart from at the lucky outdoor fairs - in case they miss out on the few days of summer when the sun actually deigns to shine. Like yesterday. I was in Brighton , the sun was glorious and I, well, I was thoughtless. I'm now lobster pink. And it's not attractive.

The British weather, you just can't win!