Book fairs will be unfamiliar territory to most people. They can range from the village hall with a handful of trestle tables manned by indifferent dealers, to the lithium spot lit glass cabinets of a premier exhibition space brimming with antiquarian delights. My debut fair which occurred just before Christmas last year was something in the middle – a well-known chain hotel, suitably situated in Bloomsbury (an area that needs no literary introductions), which had set aside a series of ground floor conference areas and the Provincial Booksellers Fairs Association (PBFA) had been hard at work designating spaces for the various bookdealers and their wares.Being my first fair after establishing as a bookseller in 2016, I approached the event with a certain amount of trepidation. I am extremely used to book fairs and the atmosphere that they discharge and of course friendly with a number of the other dealers. Nevertheless, the pressure of setting up your own stand, and exhibiting your own wares with everyone watching on brings its own form of pressure. It is standard procedure for other book dealers to stalk the floors before opening, eyeing the opening of boxes like hawks and swooping as soon as something catches their eye – it can be extremely intimidating – “what are you asking for this?”, “give me your best offer?”, “is this the true first edition?”, “how much?”, “no-one would give you that for it.” This, however, is the procedure and one must set aside such sensitivities and play the game. Adorning this particular suit of armour, as I erected the shelving on my table and arranged my stock, I began to feel the thrill of the fair descend – what could I sell, who would buy… and what might I find?