Pour Salt on it.

Another day without Sam, however he did phone in instructions this morning for Two and I on the important matter of Presuming Ed. Although we have been authorized to buy stock for years, Sam usually insists that he and only he deals with P. Ed.

He once told me that we lacked the essentially fiendish nature necessary for successfully making deals with him.
His instructions today were clear, if it looks like a bargain: consider it, if it looks like a completely fantastic bargain, be very very wary and if it looks like a steal spill salt on it. I assumed that wasn’t a literal instruction but one of Sam’s odder proverbs.

Anyway I think we did OK between us, new stock will be appearing on-line soon. We did I’ll admit buy a few items for quirk value – learn French with Edgar Allen Poe anyone? – but mostly we were depressingly conservative in our selection. Still we will see tomorrow when Sam is here to inspect the stock.

Just thought I’d end today’s entry by blatant plugging of an author who book we do not have in stock. I mentioned Kate Griffin’s A Madness of Angels previously. Really it’s very good, have a hunt round for it. It is good solid meaty fiction, a meal of a book -starter main and dessert. Not just, as I find so often, a bag of sweets which though lovely at the time, do leave you feeling ever so slightly sick afterward.

It is the story of Matthew Swift a London based sorcerer, of why he died and what happen after. The book has a long and slightly confusing prologue which makes total sense when you have finished the book, so please stick with it. I enjoyed it enormously. Kate Griffin is an author I would happily buy a drink for. (The ultimate accolade from a poor second-hand book vendor such as myself.)

Obviously she not Graham Joyce who is a fabulous writer but who gets my undying and slightly stalkerish loyalty because he once bought me a curry – but really please go and check her work out.

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.

Catch up

I’m very much back in work now. So I thought I’d catch you up on the news from Sam’s. First we are having a wedding. Jane our older S and M sister is getting married. Apparently the new trills in her life (from the books) have given her a sparkle which bought her to the attention of a certain gentlemen from the sheltered accommodation where she lives. In her sister's words ‘she snaffled the only decent bachelor in the place ‘
Both blushing bride to be and bashful groom came in today to ask two and myself to be ushers. How nice. We of course said yes. Apparently the wedding will be an epic affair and the bride as it is her first wedding will be wearing white and a veil. The groom seems a fine young man, being only seventy.
Malcolm has whilst I was away disgraced himself quite badly and is the current target of Sam’s icy disdain. Malcolm bought a live pigeon into the shop which we have so far been unable to capture. It has eaten Sam’s secret stash of ginger nut biscuits and blemished both books and the coats of customers which has hit Sam where it truly hurts –his pocket. I’m quite enjoying the gentle cooing as I work.
Strange (aka dashing but hairy) Brian continues to enjoy his bobble liberation having become a bit of a star on our local radio station with his spirited and eloquent comments on pretty much anything that occurs to him
Sam’s nephew, Harry, came in again while I was away. Two reports that he and Sam spent several hours in Sam’s office and raised voices were to be heard.
Two and low are well. That terrible smell has moved into the thriller section and we seem to have acquired a white marble bust of (Sam says) “Pallas to go above our chamber door” Due to Health and Safety concerns, i.e. it is very heavy, we are currently using it to prop open the door of the engineering section.

You can't catch it from a blog you know.

It is always nice to be part of something bigger than yourself. I’ve recently had the life affirming experience of joining a growing army round the world and going down with Swine Flu. My version was pretty mild by all accounts but really, really unpleasant never the less.
Still the bits when I wasn’t feeling like death was the only option, were pleasant even enjoyable. Too tired to do anything around the flat, I lay on the bed for two days and read so many books. I’m currently enjoying the popular psychology /economic genre – I recommend Richard Wiseman’s .59 seconds and I’ve just started Nudge by Thaler and Sunstein. The book that triggered me off this topic was Derren Brown’s absolutely fantastic Tricks of the Mind which is a highly readable ragbag of interestingness.
Then when I was better I watched a bunch of old movies; Blithe Spirit –with Margaret Rutherford as the medium Madame Allcantie; High Society; Harvey; and The Lady Killers.

I’ll blog again soon and more cheerily I promise

What we are all reading

Very hot in the shop at the moment , so hot that Malcolm has refused to actually enter the premises and instead just lies in the back yard under my sweet peas. Sam had a bit of a shout at him, but Malcolm just looked at him , sighed and fell to sleep.

Currently I am reading Graham Joyce Do the Creepy Thing . I'm a big fan of Mr. Joyce but had avoided reading this novel for sometime as it is young adult, a classification I hate. Do we have a middle aged /old adult books ? No we don't . So why not let a book be judged by its own merits rather than as a class. Like all good young adult books Do the Creepy Thing is just a great book, full stop. Apparently To Kill a Mockingbird is now defined as YA . Sometimes this business does my head in .

Sam is reading Tasker Hepplewater's Mock Turtle. Which he says in rather too heavy on the mock not enough about the turtle.

low is reading signs of doom in the smoke which might be a book or just be one of low's statements of fact.

Two and Malcolm are n't reading. Malcolm is too exhausted by heat to remain awake long enough to focus.

Terrible Smell is now in Romantic Fiction. We are worried that it might have become hooked on Barbara Cartland.

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.

Party - the Aftermath.

I still have a headache from the party.
I'm not a girly girl but last Thursday I had something akin to a brain storm and ended up buying an actual dress, red, very feminine , scoop neck with roses on it . My usual work wear is jeans , a pony tail, DMs and a t-shirt covered in dust. So it was a bit of a change. Unaccustomed as I am to going anywhere as a girl, it all took slightly more time to get ready than I thought it would and I was later than I meant to be to the party.


The bonfire was roaring away. Alcohol was flowing and the music was pretty loud. I felt really quite odd facing up to all my friends in a different guise. SH was very complementary and told me if he was only 100 years younger he'd dance me off my feet. Malcolm pretended not to recognize me .
Low said I reminded him of la belle dame sans merci, who ever that is.
Strange Brian , now gallant if rather hairy Brian insisted on presenting me with a rose rather to the annoyance of his lady friend.


Two , well two had his tongue down some blond woman's throat and didn't seem to notice which goes to prove you can't win universal approval .


Still the party was fab Sam had put some pallets down and so we had dancing . Sam proposed his traditional toast to us all and as usual flung his wine on the roots of the old apple tree when he thought we weren't looking . He does it every year , if he doesn't like the wine why pour it ?


I did like the wine which brings me back to the headache.
Two is being very solicitous and has supplied me with bacon sandwiches and tea frequently - he is feeling no ill affects and instead wanders the shop beaming like an errant sunbeam.
It's been a while since I've done any actual book based blog so I'll have a lie down now and get thinking on my next blog.

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?

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.

The lurker in the shadows

Low doesn’t do hot weather whilst Two, Malcolm and I collapse into shady corners of the shop and demand ice-cream, Low ignores the sun and just keeps going. He doesn’t sweat or slow down he just keeps moving quietly and slowly round in the shadows.

Low is as previously mentioned the long standing, stand-in for the shop. He worked here before I arrived. Legend has it he worked here in the time of the sainted Ozzy, Sam's much missed partner in crime. (Ozzy is another story, Sam claims he was the wittiest and most intelligent being, excluding himself of course, who ever set foot in the shop. Ozzy is currently apparently traveling.)

But back to Low, Low is a Goth and alarmingly skeletal. Small children seem to find him utterly fascinating whilst he tends to unnerve adult customers who haven’t previously met him.

Sam maintains Lowe is in fact a confused corporeal spirit whose is unaware that he’s actually dead. Sam will say that type of thing, shake his head and add

A great shame! Someone should tell him, and help him cross to the other side! I would myself you know but he works for peanuts and I can’t afford to lose him.

Low is a good bloke. He is quiet but I think he’s just shy. He likes to hum while he works and he’s pretty tuneful. He has also been helping me get the courtyard back into shape so we have a nice shady little garden out there. The man definitely has a touch of genius with roses though.I don’t know what he did with them but the air round here is heavy with the scent of these velvety black red roses and they’re showing no signs of fading.

I find him pretty restful company . Two who is not yet quite his normal cheerful self says he is a poseur who knows nothing of the real pain of life. Much as I love two if he doesn't buck up soon I'm going to have kick his arse.