What do a nurse, a soon-to-be grandfather and a teenage girl with a Sam Fender T-shirt and a Smiths Parka all have in common? It sounds like the start of a joke, but, trust me, Record Store Day is no laughing matter. Taking place every April, RSD – as those of us in the know call it – is one of the few chances record collectors get dragged out of our dark little dens and thrust into close proximity to other human beings. Sure, there are similar events (such as RSD’s Black Friday drop, and the more traditional record fair) but there is nothing quite on this scale.

Record collectors cannot be beaten in terms of our obsessiveness. Most shops will open at 8am on that feted Saturday morning. The first few groups in the queue might well have been there since 8pm the night before – or earlier. I’ve pulled some pretty extreme moves, too. Last year, it just so happened that Primal Scream played Manchester the night before, meaning a midnight arrival in Leeds, three hours kip in the car (only slightly disturbed by a student throwing up outside) and then a breakfast of granola and long-life milk on The Headrow at 3.30 am. I got everything that I wanted, though.

“I’ve pulled some pretty extreme moves”

Of course, we all get called mad, and we are. But we are also having the best times of our lives in that queue. If you are enduring sub-zero temperatures in a jumper and jeans (what can I say? We’re tough up north) you are clearly dedicated to your collection. Which means that everyone else around you is too. Apart from once accidentally causing a rivalry with another collector after turning up in nearly exactly the same outfit (Sam Fender jumper, Smiths jacket) the people I have met have always been friendly and so you don’t even notice the time passing.

You don’t notice the money that you are spending, either. Some shops don’t advertise the prices that they’ll be selling their records at in advance, and those that do can’t always guarantee what they will have in stock. So it can be hard to budget ahead.

It would be all right if the prices were what they were “back in the day”, when record collecting wasn’t so much a hobby as the only way to consume music. If you go into the wrong record shops, especially as a young woman, you can feel out of place. As music has moved on from being plastic- and even physical-focussed, record-collecting has become a field for “experts”, mostly ageing men who remember when these records came out the first time. And when they were a lot cheaper.

Slowly, record collecting is becoming the realm of the young again. Few my age have quite the collection I can claim, but then I started back in 2015. But many shops can be pricey. Independent shops tend to be a lot cheaper than high-street chains, but this is not the case on Record Store Day. With a twelve inch single sometimes costing more than your average LP, the day is a massive dint in your bank account. I have to save up all year to be able to get a handful. I dread to think how much those who buy multiple bags have to part with.

The company most likely justifies the price with the scarcity. Shops may only have one or two copies of the album that you want. It’s this that makes the queues form so early, resulting in hours’ worth of anecdotes, but I’d much rather a cheaper copy on any other day, than an expensive, limited edition with a couple of funny memories to go with it.

“In my first year, I determined that my tactic was to only buy the records that I couldn’t get elsewhere”

One year, I was standing in the queue with a man who wasn’t much of a collector himself. He had come in the place of his son, whose wife had just gone into labour. What did they want so badly? A copy of the Bluey album for their four-year-old son. When we got inside, we learned that the shop had only received one copy, and thankfully it went to that grandfather. We end up with funny stories, but is it really worth it? At forty quid a record, I wouldn’t say so.

In my first year, I determined that my tactic was to only buy the records that I couldn’t get elsewhere. A re-release of Keane’s Hopes and Fears? Sadly, no. OMD’s John Peel sessions? Yes. Another Cure re-release? It breaks my heart, but no. A solo Dolores O’Riordan album? I didn’t even know that existed! This is mainly because, if I turn up in that same record shop any other day of the year and find a standard copy of the record cheaper, the pretty pink vinyl (that actually detracts from the sound quality) will do nothing to placate my annoyance.

Nothing is going to stop me turning up at RSD. This year, I have a gig the night before and a four-hour drive as soon as it’s over. But it’s worth remembering that these records are often over-priced and may even (if they’re not too popular) appear in bargain bins six months later. RSD may be the record collector’s Christmas, but it’s worth baring in mind that the January sales are almost always a lot cheaper.