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What an opportunity! Who knows, all those years trawling through jumble sales and charity shops might have paid off, and here's my chance to find out. The Antiques Roadshow is coming to Cambridge; maybe amongst all this junk and clutter there might be a real treasure, bringing a sparkle to the eye of the expert and a fortune for me. After all, the weirdest things have turned up trumps, hideous stuff found in car boot sales and Aunty Mabel's attic have been discovered to be worth thousands, it's worth spending a week looking through all my accumulated flotsam for potential winners.

Actually it didn't take too long, most of my acquisitions turn out to be on the 'such a useful extra tea-bag squeezer' level, or the umpteenth set of stainless steel teaspoons, also there is the problem of taking them in on the bus, so eventually settle on a thing we've always called the Tibetan door knob for no other reason than it's sort-of gilded wrought-iron with a turquoise-type lump in the centre, and a very simple little owl in dark wood that I've had for about ten years.

Then all the doubts start flooding in. What if they are something precious, could I afford the insurance, could I sleep at night knowing my possession of such treasures had been advertised far and wide, possibly even on the net? Would I feel I had no alternative but to sell them when I don't really want to part with them?

The actual day was a real scorcher; to my astonishment on arrival at King's I found everything set up on the manicured lawn of the main court with a backdrop of Kings College Chapel. My reluctance to tread the hallowed turf was not shared by others in the long queues, camping stools and heavy items being dragged around in shopping trolleys must have been giving the gardeners apoplexy.

Everyone was very excited by the whole scene; one could tell when something special had turned up as a little tableau would be assembled of object, owner, expert and banks of lights, cameras and production staff, belying the simple scenes of discovery we see on TV. In the queue I found my silly ideas about insurance and loss of sleep were shared by all. The conversation turned to all those 'Cash in the Attic' programmes where the participants sell irreplaceable family memorabilia with the aim of 'going out for a good meal' or buying a piece of electronic equipment which would lose half its value as one carried it out of the shop. How stupid.we all smirked, until a lady just behind me said quietly that she had sold her engagement ring to pay for her son's swimming lessons, which brought us all down a peg or two.

Eventually I found myself at the Miscellaneous table where I found a hot, hungry and weary expert. He was quite interested in the Tibetan door knob but had even less idea than me as to what it actually was. So to my special piece, the little owl which I have always secretly suspected to be a delicate piece of Japanese art, such simple lines, so elegantly carved in such rich, dark wood. Well, was it?

Me:-  I have this little owl I've always been curious about, I got it in an Oxfam shop.
Expert: -  Hmmm. - well, that's just the right place for it.

So no insurance worries, no sleepless nights and my dear little owl is back on top of the drinks cupboard with all the other rubbish. Thank goodness for that.

Mo Hadfield.

The Cambridge Antiques Roadshow will be broadcast sometime during the winter of 2004/2005.