By Rob Pittam Business Correspondent, Working Lunch

Rob enjoys a gluwein and bratwurst while out and about Watch: Rob's reports

Your Working Lunch team lived a vampire-like existence in Cologne.

As darkness fell we would head out from our hotel, past the shadow of the giant, gothic cathedral and into the heart of the Christmas Market.

Armed only with a camera, a microphone and a notebook we would plunge into the crowds of merry, some very merry, Christmas shoppers.

The best time to film a Christmas market is at night, as the festive lights twinkle and the crowds around the gluwein stalls gather closer, more cosily together.

And as the night drew to a close we would head back to our hotel. The hours of daylight would be spent shuttered up in our rooms, curtains closed to keep the light out.

Cologne's main Christmas market is underneath the city's cathedral

Because, yes, we were working. Modern technology means that just like everyone else these days we can edit from a laptop and so we would put together the results of the previous night's filming, before once again heading out for more of the same when the night drew in.

In many ways filming in a Christmas Market is like shooting fish in a barrel, you can't miss. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if there is a stall in Cologne next year to shoot fish in a barrel.

The only problem was the sheer size of the crowds, thousands of people, all of them it seemed keen to get in front of the camera.

British tourists are frequent visitors to German Christmas markets

Often when we film in the UK people are too cool to get excited about something as mundane as a tv crew, the Germans though have no such inhibitions.

As we squeezed through the crowds we would hear people say to each other "Oh, der BBC" or "hey, der Kameraman". Old ladies in fur coats would calculate where the camera was due to be pointing next and proudly position themselves to be in the middle of the shot, staring happily and mutely into the lens.

But that enthusiasm made it all the more fun, especially because the locals all speak excellent English. Even to each other.

Rob stands between two fire jugglers... all in the name of work

On the first day we were particularly keen on talking to British visitors to the market, a task made all the harder because you might hear someone saying "Ok, so the plan is..." only to hear them then carry on the conversation in German.

The Brits that we spoke to confirmed that the locals had gone out of their way to help, offering directions and advice, and in the case of my Liverpool supporting producer, instructions on which bar was showing her team's game against Marseilles.

I even had an hilarious lesson in German from a bunch of people in the crowd as I filmed. They decided my polite "enschuldigensie" wasn't enough to get people to move.

Cologne's very own mug Christmas market mug for serving gluwein

One of them demonstrated how to stride confidently through screaming "achtung, achtung". The amazing thing was that everyone in his path laughed good-naturedly. I couldn't imagine that happening in Britain.

And as all this panned out, an amazing thing happened. I found myself doing something I wouldn't have thought possible, I was enjoying a Christmas market.

Cologne people we spoke to said that for them it was a great way of meeting up with friends you hadn't seen all year, stopping off for a quick chat over a drink and a bratwurst before heading home and I began to feel it too.

Our team spent a week talking to visitors to Cologne's markets

Oh, I was still unmoved by the piles of gingerbread, candles and glass baubles - if anyone invents a candle that's also a bauble made out of gingerbread they'll be able to retire - but the atmosphere slowly melted my cold heart.

And as I stood in the middle of the market, clutching a glass of warm wine, chatting to strangers and full of goodwill to all men, I suddenly realised the market had worked its Christmas magic on me.