There's a guy I see there on the regular.
On his blanket he sells amazing shoes, bags, belts and a couple of watches.
The leather goods are all English, well-made, good condition and used.
He has a public school accent, the kind kids get in boarding school and is in his late thirties.
He says, Name your price when someone asks how much an item costs, then dismisses them briskly when they suggest less then he had hoped; I'm not in the business of selling something for 60 percent below it's value, he says.
His Monday-to-Friday, he tells me, is in the city with the boys - bankers, stocks'n'shares, sales - you know the type.
We often discuss watches. Ah, the man with the Omega moon, he says on seeing me.
I'm sure you leave your Rolex at home, I say, by way of greeting.
Of course, I could never bring it here, he replies.
I scan the floor; last week he had a near mint condition pair of Trickers for sale.
Both of those have just be reconditioned, he says referring to the two watches on the blanket.
How much for this one? I say, automatically picking up the one with the plainer face.
Name your price, he says.
I wouldn't want to insult you, I reply, smiling to myself.
To you, twenty; anyone else, thirty - but I want good customers to come back! he booms.
Great, let me see if I have any cash.
It actually cost £17.50 to recondition, so you've got a real bargain there, he says.
Ignoring his extremely honest sales patter, I eye my new purchase, imagining the watch strap heaven that awaits me...
