Aug. 27th, 2010


Aug. 27th, 2010 09:59 pm
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Heading north on holiday with the rain battering down and we pulled off into a two-street village, for lunch. In that grey landscape I was changing my plans, and I nipped into the bookshop for a postcard to notify a friend who refuses point blank to entertain a computer and rarely answers her phone.

And the shop had only one post card - the most dreary scene imaginable –but I was polite about it, and the woman there referred me to the newsagents. And I went on down the street in the pouring rain and the newsagents was closed for lunch. And I splashed back to the bookshop with all the grace I could muster and bought the gloomy postcard, with a bit of an explanation about it being the only way to contact my pal, then I shot down to the Post Office and sent it.

And the rain was even heavier and I suddenly realised that the nine books in my suitcase were not going to be enough for a wet week in Perthshire. I waded back to the bookshop, dripped past her few shelves of books and asked her “Do you have The Testament of Gideon Mack?”
“No-o-o-o” she said. But it was not an absolute No. It was hesitant sort of No. Not the end of the matter. “Are you coming back here on your way home?” she asked. “No.” I said firmly, thinking she was going to offer to order the book and that Amazon could get me it faster.
“Nip in next door,” she said. And I went next door, where it was dry, and she closed her bookshop, ran home in the rain, and came back with her own copy, and gave me it.


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