Читать книгу Confessions of a Bookseller - Shaun Bythell - Страница 58

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Came downstairs at 8.30 a.m. to find a mess of feathers and a dead sparrow on the landing. Captain normally eats what he kills, but he’s so fat these days that I wonder why he bothers hunting at all. My friend Carol-Ann gave him to Anna and me about five years ago, and Anna dotes on him with a maternal enthusiasm that borders on the alarming.

Online order for six-volume set called Canada in the Great War, nicely bound in red morocco. It sold for £170.

After lunch I went to Vincent’s garage to fill up with diesel. Vincent has singularly failed to move with the times over the years, offering lines of credit for fuel which some people took advantage of. He’s an incredibly kind man. Recently he was persuaded to install a credit card machine, as people (tourists, mainly) who didn’t know that he didn’t have one were repeatedly filling up, then having to drive off and get cash to pay for their fuel. The first time I filled up there after the machine had been installed, rather than turn his head away as I typed in my PIN, Vincent kept hold of the machine and asked me what my PIN was, then typed it in himself. He has subsequently learned that it is really for the cardholder to enter the PIN, but he still watches the machine eagerly as customers type their numbers in.

Till Total £24

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