So I did.
What he failed to mention was that the premises was down a ginnel and up three – it could have been four – flights of
brown-painted stairs which in sections twisted on themselves in keeping with
the age of the interesting building full of odd, and unfortunately locked, wooden doors. I must profess to being
intrigued by interesting buildings.
I was followed by two other prospective customers who
toppled into the bookshop on my heels. Between drawn breaths they asked if oxygen
was provided free, and everyone chuckled. If not oxygen, the shop has a handy grouping of cushioned
chairs, but by then we were browsing the shelving.
The People’s Bookshop, down Saddler’s Yard, carries a host
of out of print and radical titles. Browsing was both a revelation and a joy.
If you have a spare half hour do call in. You might do more than just say hello.
No comments :
Post a Comment