Mixed Lot

My wife, Beth, thinks that I work too hard and it's difficult not to agree when I start a posting in the middle of the night.  The truth is that when you run a business you are bound to it and in that sense it never leaves you.  My business is something that I can rely on to provide for my family and so naturally I am protective of it.  It's intimate too, because although there are many people in and around it there is actually only one person who lives with it night and day, warts and all - and that is me. 

Today I have arranged to take in some jewellery for the next auction and to collect some cameras too.  I enjoy this aspect of my work because you just don't know what might turn up.  One lady handed a gilt framed drawing to me once (fresh from her attic) and said "Oh this old thing is by John Crome".  I can remember showing a colleague and us just thinking Oh My God!  Antique dealers are full of stories and, just like fisherman's tales, they can get exaggerated.  Many sales take place privately (a growing aspect of my work) and some of the best stuff is never seen - so it's sometimes frustrating when you handle something special and no one believes you "No, it really was a 17th Century manuscript!"  I am alone in knowing that it was which is why I need Betty back.
Betty was the best secretary I ever had (when I had a 'proper' job).  Behind closed doors she was my trusted advisor and I could and did share every last morsel with her openly and honestly.  She would say "Oh Gary, what have you done this time!"  and I would say "Oh Betty, it's all gone a bit wrong" and she would say "Never mind, we can sort it out" Which is exactly what we did - every time.  The key thing was the we thing - I was never alone whilst Betty was in my life.  I'm not alone now, of course, because I work alongside fantastic people - all of whom I value - but Betty, a Betty, would complete our team.  Unfortunately, Betty buggered off and got married - Beth and I went to her wedding and I remember those days like they were yesterday but in fact it was a long long time ago.  Time moves on and things change.  I like to think the next Betty is around the corner.
I don't know, of course, what is round the corner, none of us do.  In my dreams I imagine a once-in-a-lifetime find.  I suppose the closest so far would be Bob Dylan's harmonica but that's still some way short of what I really hope for.  How about a chess set belonging to Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, a marble board with ebony and ivory pieces hand carved in 12th Century Syria; or a lost work by Tiziano Vecelli; or the sunken treasury of King John, lost to The Wash in 1216 just days before his death.  Dreams, maybe, but no one can deny that our business, this business, offers a chance - a chance to find something that can make a fortune.
The irony is that money means very little to me.  I do what I do because I enjoy it.  They say that dealing in antiques is in the blood.  It's a little bit addictive - like gambling.  It's in my blood.  It's in my heart too, and in my head which is why I am thinking, thinking when I should be sleeping.