When I got in this morning, I found a small pile of feathers and no pigeon. Malcolm was asleep on the window seat looking smug. I fear the worse.

Sam is not in today so two and I have been taking liberties. Sam believes the shop should be a quiet place where the only sounds heard are the sneezes of customers as they take down books and displace tones of dust and of course the merry ringing of the till. Two and I therefore like to indulge in something more musical when Sam is safely away. Unfortunately this causes disruptions in the normal excellent working relationship between two and myself as our music tastes find little common ground. It is true that I have come to appreciate some of Metallica’s back catalogue but Toyah is a screechy step too far and two has gained an appreciation of the Hoosiers and Kaiser Chiefs but if I go any jazzier than that he begins to mutter under his breath in a most alarming manner.

However we both agree low will never again be allowed to play his choice of music. I was expecting dark and miserablist but the tuba solo throw me to start with, then when the bagpipes came in I felt quite queasy and all our customers left.

One of our favourite dealer-men is in tomorrow, Presuming Ed. I’m looking forward to it. He always brings us goodies, lots of good quality general stock but usually something special which disappears in the Sam’s private collection. Last thing I got from him was a unchecked proof of Kate Griffins A Madness of Angels, which is an excellent book if you enjoy the urban magic sub-genre, which I do.