It's 11.00 on a Sunday morning. I can't believe I'm standing in the middle of a school playground telling people that my old clutter is worth every penny.

It took three alarm clocks to wake me up, a phone call to get me out of bed and several coffees before I could leave the house.

But what fun this is. My share of the money we make is going towards my next trip abroad. I'm already planning for my second car boot sale. Not sure if I'll have anything left to sell, though.

Amazing what people buy. Anything. Everything. A TV that doesn't work. A phone charger for a brand that's obsolete. Some used socks.

I didn't mean to include my blue jacket. I just brought it along to keep me warm. I only noticed that we made £5 on it as Gem was stuffing it into a plastic carrier bag.

Still, I've had it for ten years. And at least the £5 was legal tender. I hope. The stall next door is lumbered with two bags of old fifty pence pieces - I don't think even the banks change those any more.

If I wasn't in such a daze, I'd have a look round the other stalls. Being a zombie is probably saving me a small fortune.