Minion One does most of the work around here, at least as far as the blog and the online shop is concerned. I've been lax, to say the least in doing my share of updating the blog for which I can only apologise.
As One mentioned, we all went off to Nottingham the other weekend for the annual British Fantasy Society convention called FantasyCon. Due to late registration, we didn't actually get round to having a dealer's table so spent the weekend milling about and trying to meet some writers in the hope of scrounging up some signed first editions we could surreptitiously sell! (Only joking - we don't do anything surreptitiously!)
I didn't see Sam for most of the weekend, though I did catch a glimpse of him one evening in a corner of the hotel bar chatting with Ramsay Campbell and a man who had obviously come dressed as HP Lovecraft and who had done a really good job: the likeness was remarkable.
One spent most of the weekend scouring the dealer's room for books, mostly to read, partly to sell, and came away with a huge hoard, most of which she's read already. I picked up a few books from the independent presses - we should all support our new writers and publishers, I think - and have been working through them.
The Catacombs of Fear by John Llewellyn Probert - a cracking collection of five stories linked by a framing sequence, written by one of the few remaining British eccentrics! These stories are great: good, solid horror stories, and John Probert - whom I met for five minutes - is an absolute diamond of a guy!
Conjure by Mark West - I didn't get to meet Mark unfortunately as he was only at the Con for one day but everyone who mentioned him said he was a good bloke. His book, too, is a good, fast read - it could actually have done with being a bit longer in my opinion, but it's another good 'un.
Bar None by Tim Lebbon - Lebbon's not really small press from what I understand as he's writing full time and has a large back catalgoue. This one's a good post-apocalyptic tale featuring a selection of fine ales as well; I may well pick up some of his earlier books on the strength of this. Oh, and he's a nice bloke as well who cheerfully signed my copy for me.
That seems to be the theme for my experiences of FantasyCon - it's just full of nice people despite the predominance of horror writers and I look forward to going next year.
Showing posts with label Mr SH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr SH. Show all posts
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Never Again
That's it - no more wine for me.
Sam's longest day party was a great laugh with customers coming from far and wide (Sam welcomed everyone to the evening, hinting that some of them had come from VERY far away . . . I've no idea where he means or why the crowd gave a knowing laugh) and really enjoying themselves.
I had a glass or two of wine and planned to simply sit back and enjoy the evening. Despite Minion One's earlier post, I did actually notice her looking very nice in a dress but - and this is why I'm steering clear of the liquidised grape from now on - my attention was drawn to another lass who seemed intent on "easing my troubled soul" (her words)
I'm ashamed to say I didn't catch her name before she latched on to my face and, so it seemed, attempted to drag my troubled soul out of her mouth using her tongue.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur as she plied me with wine and wantonness. I swear I kept seeing Sam grinning every time he glanced over at me.
By the time the party ended, I'd somehow drifted off to sleep and the somewhat fey lass had vanished along with most of her companions. I woke to find Malcolm staring at me with a mixture of disdain and disappointment with more than a dash of contempt. Before I could say anything, he turned and wandered off.
Minion One has been very gracious over the last few days, not really asking questions about my mysterious lady friend, but Sam has done next to nothing except grin and chuckle at me which is more than a little disconcerting.
"Perhaps now you can get back to work instead of mooning around like a love-sick teenager?" he asked me this morning. I had to agree that perhaps I could.
Whoever she was, she certainly took my mind off the customer from a couple of months ago . . . but I'm still not going to drink any more wine.
Sam's longest day party was a great laugh with customers coming from far and wide (Sam welcomed everyone to the evening, hinting that some of them had come from VERY far away . . . I've no idea where he means or why the crowd gave a knowing laugh) and really enjoying themselves.
I had a glass or two of wine and planned to simply sit back and enjoy the evening. Despite Minion One's earlier post, I did actually notice her looking very nice in a dress but - and this is why I'm steering clear of the liquidised grape from now on - my attention was drawn to another lass who seemed intent on "easing my troubled soul" (her words)
I'm ashamed to say I didn't catch her name before she latched on to my face and, so it seemed, attempted to drag my troubled soul out of her mouth using her tongue.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur as she plied me with wine and wantonness. I swear I kept seeing Sam grinning every time he glanced over at me.
By the time the party ended, I'd somehow drifted off to sleep and the somewhat fey lass had vanished along with most of her companions. I woke to find Malcolm staring at me with a mixture of disdain and disappointment with more than a dash of contempt. Before I could say anything, he turned and wandered off.
Minion One has been very gracious over the last few days, not really asking questions about my mysterious lady friend, but Sam has done next to nothing except grin and chuckle at me which is more than a little disconcerting.
"Perhaps now you can get back to work instead of mooning around like a love-sick teenager?" he asked me this morning. I had to agree that perhaps I could.
Whoever she was, she certainly took my mind off the customer from a couple of months ago . . . but I'm still not going to drink any more wine.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
Must Try Harder
I have been remiss in adding to this blog, Minion One keeps telling me. She's not averse to poking me when she's telling me, either, which simply reinforces the fact that she has very sharp fingernails that can pierce even the thickest T-shirt. While Sam doesn't know a blog from a wiki, he fully supports One in her endeavours and has asked me twice this week whether I've "scripted anything for the electronic shop diary?" Low, the skeletal Goth who sometimes works in the nether regions of the shop, avoids me claiming my soul is "too dark a mirror" for him to look upon.
Even Malcolm's been staring at me with more disdain than usual.
It's been over a month since my lady friend broke up with me and I think I've just about worn out everyone's sympathy, even One's. She's been a great friend but even the best of friends get bored of the same old story over and over.
So here's a promise - I shall attend Sam's Midsummer party this Sunday and buck up my ideas, get back on track and, at the very least, be more cheerful than Low.
And who knows? Maybe I'll meet someone at the party?
Even Malcolm's been staring at me with more disdain than usual.
It's been over a month since my lady friend broke up with me and I think I've just about worn out everyone's sympathy, even One's. She's been a great friend but even the best of friends get bored of the same old story over and over.
So here's a promise - I shall attend Sam's Midsummer party this Sunday and buck up my ideas, get back on track and, at the very least, be more cheerful than Low.
And who knows? Maybe I'll meet someone at the party?
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Party over here!
Sam doesn’t do holidays, at least not the same ones as everyone else. We regularly open on Christmas day – strangely or sadly we have quite a few customers on the day and Sam serves up Mulled Paint stripper. But Sam does do Mid-summer big style.
Our shop stands on the corner of the square and then there is a gap where a house fell down years ago. Then there is a row of little shops including Bobbitt’s the haberdashery which was last decorated in the 1950s and is just coming back into fashion now. The third side is made up of the high street proper and as such is mainly soulless units of Pound land, Starbucks and shoe shops. Then it is round to us again via some big old Victorian town houses which have seen better years. (I know I live in one of them.)
But inside this square is a patch of land which Sam has annexed into the property of bookshop. It is here that Sam holds the summer party. Sam is as you may have gathered, not a man of great sentient or with a overflow of love towards his fellowman but for one night he is the most benign of hosts, flinging open the gates to the area, performing magic tricks for the children, making people laugh and even playing contagiously catchy tunes on his fiddle.
Lots of people from the local area come, and some really strange strangers show up too.
Although the party is pretty much come as you are there are large numbers of people in costumes. Years ago I spend most of the evening talking to a very charming man who was suited and booted as a well off city gent, except that he had a beard of the most brilliant sky blue. We were getting on really well and he had just invited me back to his pad when Sam wandered over muttered something in his ear and my blue bearded friend turned pale and left in a hurry. Sam then told me to work behind the bar for the rest of the night.
Still I’m looking forward to this year’s party on Sunday if you are in the area it usually kicks off at six and we’d be delighted to see you.
Our shop stands on the corner of the square and then there is a gap where a house fell down years ago. Then there is a row of little shops including Bobbitt’s the haberdashery which was last decorated in the 1950s and is just coming back into fashion now. The third side is made up of the high street proper and as such is mainly soulless units of Pound land, Starbucks and shoe shops. Then it is round to us again via some big old Victorian town houses which have seen better years. (I know I live in one of them.)
But inside this square is a patch of land which Sam has annexed into the property of bookshop. It is here that Sam holds the summer party. Sam is as you may have gathered, not a man of great sentient or with a overflow of love towards his fellowman but for one night he is the most benign of hosts, flinging open the gates to the area, performing magic tricks for the children, making people laugh and even playing contagiously catchy tunes on his fiddle.
Lots of people from the local area come, and some really strange strangers show up too.
Although the party is pretty much come as you are there are large numbers of people in costumes. Years ago I spend most of the evening talking to a very charming man who was suited and booted as a well off city gent, except that he had a beard of the most brilliant sky blue. We were getting on really well and he had just invited me back to his pad when Sam wandered over muttered something in his ear and my blue bearded friend turned pale and left in a hurry. Sam then told me to work behind the bar for the rest of the night.
Still I’m looking forward to this year’s party on Sunday if you are in the area it usually kicks off at six and we’d be delighted to see you.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
I've Been Busy
Our esteemed employer, Sam, has a variety of methods for letting you know he's displeased with you. There's the obvious shouting and waving of arms - admittedly it's mostly Malcolm who suffers this sort of abuse; there's the low growl in his chest that permeates the shop, echoing off the shelves, which is often heard after a customer asks if we stock any Dan Brown novels; there's the quiet, inventive swearing that follows those rare occasions when a seller persuades Sam to part with more money than he wants to - I once had to look up in a medical dictionary a word that Sam had used to describe someone and actually blushed upon reading the definition.
And then there's the cold, hard glare accompanied by glacial silence.
That's what I've been getting for the last couple of days.
One has been very kind to me - she's been making me tea and listening to me babble on and on about my woes - but Sam, I've discovered, has little sympathy for the broken hearted. As One has previously mentioned, these last few weeks I've been - I admit - head over heels with a lady friend whom I met through the shop. She had come in and asked about a certain author, I had offered my opinion and simply chatted with her. A few days later, to my surprise, we were out on our first date.
She started spending time at the shop, got on with both One and Malcolm (who are both excellent judges of character) and everything was going fine until . . .
Until it wasn't. She broke up with me a few days ago and hasn't been in the shop since. While One has been a good and reassuring friend, Sam has been giving me the cold stare and silent treatment. One actually approached him earlier today and asked why he was annoyed with me.
"Love at his age is a fleeting thing. It arrives quickly and then leaves but will always be replaced by a new one given time," he said, stacking some books. "Customers, however, once lost will never return."
The moral of Sam's story: never date a customer.
And then there's the cold, hard glare accompanied by glacial silence.
That's what I've been getting for the last couple of days.
One has been very kind to me - she's been making me tea and listening to me babble on and on about my woes - but Sam, I've discovered, has little sympathy for the broken hearted. As One has previously mentioned, these last few weeks I've been - I admit - head over heels with a lady friend whom I met through the shop. She had come in and asked about a certain author, I had offered my opinion and simply chatted with her. A few days later, to my surprise, we were out on our first date.
She started spending time at the shop, got on with both One and Malcolm (who are both excellent judges of character) and everything was going fine until . . .
Until it wasn't. She broke up with me a few days ago and hasn't been in the shop since. While One has been a good and reassuring friend, Sam has been giving me the cold stare and silent treatment. One actually approached him earlier today and asked why he was annoyed with me.
"Love at his age is a fleeting thing. It arrives quickly and then leaves but will always be replaced by a new one given time," he said, stacking some books. "Customers, however, once lost will never return."
The moral of Sam's story: never date a customer.
Saturday, 14 February 2009
The uncanny Mr S H
Beginning of last week a gent came into the shop .He sort of hovered in the door way peering at the stacks for a bit before committing himself to stepping in to the premises. Myself and MR H were front of shop, Minion 2 and Malcolm were in Children’s classics trying to pinpoint the cause of a recurring yet intermittent peculiar smell (long unnerving story), our visitor was not a regular, he was well dressed with a long, strongly featured face and the air of one who was under a compulsion to do something unpleasant.
Sam Haine’s is organized so that the stacks within sight of the door sell mostly modern paper backs, this stops in Sam‘s words “the casual shopper cluttering the serious aisles”. After our visitor had assured himself that we were a proper book shop, he disappeared in to the depths.
When he reappeared several hours later he looked entirely different. His previously immaculate camel coloured coat was covered in the thick grey fur of dust which clearly showed that he had ventured into one of Sam’s avenues. His face was flushed; his eyes bright and he carried a huge pile of books.
As I began the task of sorting, recording, and pricing the books, he talked to Sam.
“Absolutely marvelous selection you store” he said
Sam agreed.
There were a few more remarks of the innocuous sort then he asked a question it that particular, seemingly careless but oh so earnest way that all second hand book shop seller’s recognize as the call of the true addict.
“Do you happen to know if you have a copy of ... (let’s call it Fly Fishing by J R Hartley)? I had a little look for it, couldn’t see it but thought I’d mention it.”
Sam made a show of seeming to search his memory before confessing that he wasn’t totally sure but he thought he might have seen it on the shelves somewhere. A look flashed across the man’s face, greed and glee. It is the look seen on children’s faces over some inexplicable object of total desire but which adults often learn to hide.
“Well “said our gent “unfortunately I have an appointment. I’m already late! But if you do find it maybe you could give me a ring on this number? I may even come back tomorrow”
Sam agreed and took his card and after paying enough to cover mine and Minion 2 wages for the week, the gent left.
Sam idly tapped the card against his teeth for a few minutes then walked into the stacks, he returned seconds late with a book, put the card in it and put it by the till.
“He’s worth two more visits “ Sam said “ then give him this , then One, as you hand it over , do be sure to mention that you are sure we have a copy of the very limited , very rare ,practically unheard of sequel somewhere in the shop.”
Something tells me we have a new regular.
Sam Haine’s is organized so that the stacks within sight of the door sell mostly modern paper backs, this stops in Sam‘s words “the casual shopper cluttering the serious aisles”. After our visitor had assured himself that we were a proper book shop, he disappeared in to the depths.
When he reappeared several hours later he looked entirely different. His previously immaculate camel coloured coat was covered in the thick grey fur of dust which clearly showed that he had ventured into one of Sam’s avenues. His face was flushed; his eyes bright and he carried a huge pile of books.
As I began the task of sorting, recording, and pricing the books, he talked to Sam.
“Absolutely marvelous selection you store” he said
Sam agreed.
There were a few more remarks of the innocuous sort then he asked a question it that particular, seemingly careless but oh so earnest way that all second hand book shop seller’s recognize as the call of the true addict.
“Do you happen to know if you have a copy of ... (let’s call it Fly Fishing by J R Hartley)? I had a little look for it, couldn’t see it but thought I’d mention it.”
Sam made a show of seeming to search his memory before confessing that he wasn’t totally sure but he thought he might have seen it on the shelves somewhere. A look flashed across the man’s face, greed and glee. It is the look seen on children’s faces over some inexplicable object of total desire but which adults often learn to hide.
“Well “said our gent “unfortunately I have an appointment. I’m already late! But if you do find it maybe you could give me a ring on this number? I may even come back tomorrow”
Sam agreed and took his card and after paying enough to cover mine and Minion 2 wages for the week, the gent left.
Sam idly tapped the card against his teeth for a few minutes then walked into the stacks, he returned seconds late with a book, put the card in it and put it by the till.
“He’s worth two more visits “ Sam said “ then give him this , then One, as you hand it over , do be sure to mention that you are sure we have a copy of the very limited , very rare ,practically unheard of sequel somewhere in the shop.”
Something tells me we have a new regular.
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