Читать книгу Confessions of a Bookseller - Shaun Bythell - Страница 35

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After the storm, a sunny day.

Tom turned up at lunchtime to borrow my shop accounts over the past ten years so that he could produce an analysis of how the credit crunch and the growth of Amazon have affected local retail. It’s part of his pitch to raise funds for the Writers’ House project.

Sarah from Craigard Gallery (three doors down the street) dropped in two belated Christmas cards, one for Nicky and one for me. Nicky’s says, ‘Queen of Awesomeness.’ Mine says, ‘Bah! Humbug!’

The majority of the day was occupied with trying to hammer together the programme for the Spring Festival; a weekend of talks and events organised by the booksellers of Wigtown over the May Bank Holiday.

Closed the shop and went to The Open Book and invited Colette over for supper. She told me that she’d had a great night at the Bladnoch Inn last night, and been the focus of the amorous attention of many of the customers—a large number of whom are farmers who live in rugged isolation.

Bed at 2 a.m.

Till Total £22

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