After finishing Absolute Friends by John le Carre, and being blown away by the grandstand finish, I was desperate to read more of his engrossing spy thrillers.

I hunted around for an old copy of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, the first of the Karla's Game trilogy featuring George Smiley but failed to find it, which made me realise two things.

One: I own too many books and need to give some of them away to charity. Two: If I can't complete the simple task of laying my hands on an old paperback, then I probably wouldn't make a very good secret agent myself.

Fortunately, I was able to find paperback copies of le Carre's The Honourable Schoolboy and Smiley's Game, the last two instalments of the trilogy, and started off with part two, the story of Hong Kong journo/spy Jerry Westerby.

As luck would have it, a couple of days later I spotted a copy of Tinker, Tailor in Oxfam in St Giles and snapped it up for £3.50, so I now have a complete set.

I did manage a quick trip to Gloucester Green market on Thursday, and it proved very rewarding, although I was perhaps a little bit too frugal with my spending.

On one of the second-hand book stalls, I picked up a handsome copy of John Buchan's Greenmantle, complete with bright yellow illustrated dust jacket.

The price was £1, which I thought a bargain, even if it was a 1950 Hodder reprint of the second Richard Hannay novel, which first came out in 1916.

The chap who owned the stall encouraged me to choose three books for £2, but I was so chuffed with the Buchan that I didn't bother, passing up the chance of buying a book club hardback of Le Carre's The Little Drummer Girl.

At the weekend, I was in Broad Street shooting a video of the Oxford Santa Fun Run in near-freezing temperatures, so I thought I would warm up for 10 minutes in the second-hand section of Blackwell's.

As I thawed out on the top floor, I spotted a Kipling title I haven't seen before. It was a Thames and Hudson biog compiled by Kingsley Amis in 1975. The slim volume was full of interesting black-and-white pix so I didn't let the £5 price tag put me off.

The gentleman bookseller behind the desk told me regretfully that he couldn't sell me the tome until 11am, due to our country's antiquated Sunday trading laws, so I put the book to one side for collection later in the week.

England in the 21st century is desperately hanging on to a number of traditions which probably date back to the days of Kipling and the Empire. Perhaps it's time Sunday trading laws were scrapped completely.