When I wrote about the Lady with the Union Jacks (the full story is further down) I had no idea how many Vintage flags this tale would unearth!
Passing my name from person to person, a network of flag-finders has emerged around the County and flags in all sizes from both World Wars, several Coronations and numerous Royal Celebrations, are once again seeing the light of day.
It’s amazing how these flags differ in character and, quite predictably, I love the nostalgic charm of the frayed and faded as they age from inky blue to weathered grey.
So many stories, so many hopes and dreams of a better future tied up in these patriotic mementoes, and where a flag has a “personal” history I’ll tell you all about it in the eBay listing description.

Martina and her friend Hennypenny are ex-battery hens, seen here posing for an eBay photocall with a vintage 1930s chick feeder.
Arriving in the early autumn they settled happily into their custom-built coop in our back garden, but soon made it quite obvious that when I’m working in the garden they’d very much like to “help”.
I never realised how fascinating a pair of chickens could be.
Hennypenny is about 18 months old. She somehow avoided being loaded onto the lorry when a local battery-house was clearing out, and has grown from being a featherless fearful little bundle of fright with a withered leg, into a sleek and happy hen. Each morning at around 10 o’clock she hurtles across the lawn running as fast as her lame drumstick will go, through the coop, up the ramp, and into the henhouse where she meticulously arranges her nest in the deep straw and thinks about laying an egg.
So far it’s been a false alarm but hopefully when the daylight hours increase in the Spring, she’ll surprise us all!
Martina escaped from a chick rearing unit on route to the battery farm. Roosting high in a hedge she miraculously survived a week living rough. She’s bold and bossy but looks after Hennypenny with all the good natured attention of a seasoned carer.
Henny is shepherded about, clucked over and scolded and wherever she is in the garden, the younger hen stays close enough to watch over her. They chatter non-stop between themselves and have recently tried to include me in their conversation, resulting in some very perplexed looks
when I obviously don’t do as I’m asked!
Martina was point-of-lay when she arrived, and she’s now got down to business with a little brown egg every morning which I take great pleasure in collecting in my vintage 1930s egg-collecting basket, bought at a local Farm Sale.
So I can wholeheartedly recommend ex- battery hens to anyone thinking about keeping chickens – useful as well
as beautiful and very, very entertaining!

When Ted and Bunny met Red or Dead!
As always, Goodwood Revival this year was the perfect vintage weekend: fascinating people to watch, exhibition stands and superb vintage stalls to visit – and of course those fabulous cars!
The forecast was great, sunny Autumn weather perfect for showing off gorgeous garments. But the Friday morning was really cold, so I was pleased I’d thought to bring a 40s navy coat with big shoulders and New Look styling to wear over my paisley button-through dress.
It turned into quite a memorable day. . .
Hats first. I decided it would be too breezy for the burgundy velvet number, which, hat-pinned precariously to the back of the head, resembled large rabbit ears. Brought back from our American trip, I think it was designed to wear with a snood to be totally secure. Second choice was a structural pillbox-style Forties felt, which I felt imposed much-needed elegance on my unruly curls. I bought it at Kempton Antiques Market some months ago (more about that brilliant fair at a later date) and simply added an Art Deco hat pin.
Accessorised with vintage suede platform heels (miraculously worn all day, despite the very early start), leather gloves and Corde handbag, the outfit worked well in a quietly understated sort of way, I felt. So I was flattered to be complimented as I walked around, and to have my hat photographed for a forthcoming fashion feature. (I noticed two other distinctive hats in the crowd which I had sold on eBay in August, and saw some of “my” handbags for sale in the vintage clothing stalls. . . a little glow of pride that tedandbunny found it first!)
There are always actors in the Revival crowd, to add to the feel of the era. My particular favourite is The Spiv, with his thin moustache, sharp suit and “co-respondents” shoes. Flashing open his jacket to reveal precious packets he’ll furtively ask if you want to buy nylons, or he’ll roll up his sleeve to display an armful of watches for sale “without coupons”. But it was while I was giggling with an exceptionally camp “Julian and Sandy” that I was presented with a Vintage Best in Show rosette by a roving judge, and invited to have my photo taken on the Richmond Lawn by Lord March. I was speechless, but needless to say Julian and “friend” saved the day with some very cheeky banter!
About 20 of us assembled on the Lawn for the photocall, and the outfits were truly stunning. Oh-so-cool new parents brought their little son asleep in a lemon white and chrome American pram with whitewall tyres – a baby-version of those stunning Boulevard Cruiser cars of the late 50s! – and a bonny toddler stole all our hearts. He was dressed in a knitted sailor-boy romper suit and didn’t stop giggling all through the proceedings. Vintage children . . . the most adorable accessory ever!
After a catwalk parade in the Cocktail Bar, we filed back outside for the photocall. Facing a barrage of press photographers I had a fleeting 15-minutes-of-fame celeb-moment, and after the individual pics were taken I just HAD to be revived with a champagne cocktail!
Which is when I found myself next to the designer Wayne Hemmingway. He is masterminding the “Vintage at Goodwood” revival offshoot in August 2010, which will celebrate 50 years of British Cool, and I found myself (admittedly emboldened by the chammy) chatting to him about how vintage has slipped seamlessly into our everyday lifestyle. Being of a certain age, I remember his 80s fashion career well, and I’m quite tickled to think I can look back on this Friday as The Day Ted and Bunny met Red or Dead!
Can’t WAIT to find the outfit for next year!

Since eBay became my prime sales outlet, I’m often asked if I miss selling at the big antique fairs – Alexandra Palace . . . Sandown . . . Kempton Park . . .
In the days before eBay, good antique fairs like these were the major outlet for traders like me, and they had long waiting lists – it was a year before I had a permanent stand at Alexander Palace.
Dealing was certainly different, with no instantly available price comparisons, and Millers Guides were invaluable for research. Over the years friendships were formed with neighbouring sellers and we’d seek information from more knowledgeable people; most antique dealers happily give advice on their favourite subject! But with fewer overseas buyers and brisker internet trading, fairs became quieter, expenses rose, sales fell and in 2002 I made the decision to transfer to eBay . . .
But how could I not miss the bustle of setting-up my stand like a mini curiosity shop and making the most eye-catching display. Or my regular buyers- the small band of dealers waiting when I arrived anxious to unwrap special pieces. I knew who’d want the 1920s opera coat, a certain buyer for the Victorian sampler, a lace bundle for another, gilded picture frames for the restorer.
Or the crowds who came to buy- earlybirds paying for Trade tickets rather than waiting for general admittance, and then later a throng of expectant bargain hunters; overseas buyers on organised trips, with purchases personally ticketed and collected en masse by their escorting shippers.
Then there would be the questions asked about the history of a potential purchase…whether to add to an existing collection…hats tried for size…jewellery examined under a loupe…textiles taken to the daylight for colour. A little haggling to arrive at a mutually agreeable price and then wrap with layers of tissue.
Whether it’s to a trader re-selling for profit or someone simply treating themselves, there’s always enormous pleasure to be gained from a successful sale.
Lower offers were reluctantly accepted at the end of the day (the old buying adage goes “best pieces first, best prices last”) and finally packing-up time came, hopefully with less boxes to carry out. Always tiring when you’ve been on your feet all day, so departures were quick and the weary drive home began.
So, do I really miss the fairs? Sitting at my computer with a view out over the surrounding countryside, I do have fond memories of the good old days – but I certainly don’t miss that endless loading and unloading of the car, the bleary-eyed miles of motorway driving and those horrible 4am starts!

Vintage Union Jack flags are very much at the forefront of fashion and I love the gently faded Union Jack flags more than anything. Recently I sourced a collection of genuine oldies from a trunk in the loft…..I visited a lady who was downsizing and wanted to show me her dressmaking fabric store. We spent the morning in the huge attic unearthing treasures whilst she told me of her exploits as a pre-war “it” girl in London. After hearing tales of naughty parties, champagne-fuelled motoring and skinny-dipping I have to confess that this aged member of the local WI will never seem quite the same again! The flags accumulated from the 1930s – 1950s Coronation parties, and I’ll be listing them over the coming weeks.

I love a good flea-market.
The thrill of finding hidden treasure is the best part of this job, and the diversity of wares on sale at a flea-market means you never know what’s going to turn up. Driving to the market, I compose a mental list of things I’d like to find, starting with bread-and-butter basics and tailing off into dreams of elusive treasures sold long ago and never seen again! I park, have a revitalising coffee, gather my shopping bags and begin the hunt.
I try to devote the first round to immediate “yesses”. Scanning cluttered stands, it’s the colour of an item that attracts me first – be it a snippet of antique silk or the patina of aged wood. Decisions are made on closer inspection of condition and price. Chatting to stallholders and other buyers, it’s difficult not to get distracted: a peculiar form of conversation will begin along one row, pause while out of earshot inspecting possible purchases and resume coming back down the next row. Woeful tales of bargains just-missed, gossip about who-bought-what and general grumbles about the dearth of good pieces, and we go on our way.
Back at the car I quickly inspect my purchases. A nice selection of vintage textiles, some good pairs of large curtains, a useful batch of metalware. It’s re-assuring to have bought well; nothing more dispiriting than a wasted morning when everything is either “just not me” or too expensive to re-sell.
The second round is for more special pieces. It’s difficult to say why you fall for things – I work on the principle that if I love it so will you. Being attracted to the offbeat and quirky means frequent battles between head and heart. When heart wins and the budget is blown I mentally promise I won’t do it again…until the guilt subsides!
Selling exclusively on ebay has curtailed my passion for large and heavy pieces, so while I lust after a Victorian overmantle mirror resplendent in its original gilded frame common sense prevails and I walk away.
Another coffee and it’s time for the final circuit. I always do this in the opposite direction- it’s amazing what you see from a different angle. Some original cards of white linen buttons catch my eye as does a batch of 1940s knitting patterns. I re-visit items I thought too highly priced earlier; sometimes the seller will take a lower offer, sometimes it’s already been sold.
Eventually, weary feet and an empty purse tell me it’s time to go. Car piled high with bags, I head for home.