Look, look! Bright and shiny things. The one I’d like to draw your attention to is the one on the right of the picture. The pound coin is shown for scale. The badges are available to purchase, if we can work out a way to get them to people, at £3 per badge. We’ll obviously have them in the shop when we eventually reopen, they’re not likely to go beyond their sell by date. Also, if anyone wants to offer me £3 for the £1 coin in the photo, I would be more than happy to accept.
The British-Breton poet Claire Trevien ( https://www.clairetrevien.co.uk/ ) has been asking the Twitterati to submit selfies so that she can experiment with portraiture. Filled with nothing more than a sense of my own self-importance, I sent her the image that you can see on the previous page in this blog (https://wordpress.com/post/wildandhomelessbooks.com/498}.
Not having been in this position before, and not having expected to be the subject of a portrait, I had no idea of the sheer sense of gratitude and the gratification that can arise from seeing the end result. Claire has done an excellent job (particularly given the fairly base material she had to work from) and has really captured some of the natural born bookseller’s native arrogance 🙂
Claire is an excellent poet, and I commend her work to you all. I saw her one woman performance of The Shipwrecked House at Bridport Arts Centre in 2014 or 15, which was like one of those gigs you go to by a favourite band where they play the best songs off their latest album, but in a different and more enchanting order. Her following collection, Asteronymes*, reinforced the overriding sense of a voice well worth listening to. I can’t comment on last year’s Brain Fugue yet, as I – mea maxima culpa – haven’t read it yet (to be rectified shortly). Anyway, head over to her website and get on board.
The portrait is now winging it’s way to Wild & Homeless, where it will take pride of place among the precious things of the shop. It won’t displace the Audrey Hepburn screenprint, but I’m hoping it might work some sort of Dorian Gray magic.
Postscript: It occurs to me that I’ve not yet updated this site (or any other) with regards to the latest lockdown. I’ll do that separately, perhaps tomorrow.
* This entire piece is missing a number of accents over vowels. Apologies, particularly to Claire.
…as Shakespeare has his Richard III declaim. The quotation in full is:
“And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol’n out of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”
Which, it must be said, is probably not the sort of thing I ought to be putting into a Mission Statement.
Anyway, I now have a costume I can wear whenever I want to feel like I’m a retail minion in the service of the Big W, whenever my spin cycle has failed to complete, and whenever I want to stop people asking me “do you work here?”*
After villainously clothing myself and several minions, we have a couple spare, so if anyone would like to walk about advertising the business in some far and distant land, please get in touch – they have the shop’s details on the back. (£12.50 plus postage if you’re interested. Why prostitute yourself for anything less?).
Contractual obligations mean I have to say that the shirts were designed by Bob & Laura at Sheenan Bright, and knocked into shape by Jackie and Derek at Spiral Screenprints. But I’d have done that anyway as they are all lovely people. Links to their things below:
also on Instagram @sheenanbright
occasionally on Twitter https://twitter.com/spiralprinting
*it hasn’t worked yet. My best response so far has been “No, I’m the charges d’affairs for the Peruvian Mission to the Court of St. James”. It did not go down as well as it might have done.
You really can’t beat a good ampersand. Or a bad one for that matter. As with many endangered species they’re protected by law. They no longer flourish in their native habitats, and web page addresses and online forms appear to have barred their use. “Your password must contain a mixture of upper and lower case letters plus a character. No, not an ampersand”.
We happen to like ampersands, and now that the summer has arrived with its welcome and familiar sights and sounds – flying ants approaching in squadron formation like the RAF over Dresden in 1944, the gentle thwack of leather on widow (and the gentle ripple of applause in appreciation of a well-made stroke), – the time is at hand for us to do our bit for the ampersand. Hence this:
As with all our design stuff, this was worked up for us by Laura & Bob at Sheenan Bright – https://www.sheenanbright.com/ Bob did the original signage for the shop eleven years ago, and it is testament to the soundness of his original design that it still works extremely well for us.
We are not ampersanding up just for the sheer rock’n’roll hell of it (although, naturally, that did play a small part in our deliberations). Things are planned for which this ampersand is needed. Of which more at a later date.
By about lunchtime last Thursday, I was beginning to realise that not much had really changed. The first day of the cricket season had been punctuated by rain delays, and England had then staggered to 87-5, having won the toss and chosen both to bat and also to leave our arguably most effective bowler in such conditions out of the starting eleven. Discussions can always be had as to whether individual batsmen play better off their front or back foot, but when decision making is concerned, the long history of English cricket tends to devolve to the question of whether to put the bullet in the right or left foot.
On the other hand, the fact that I was following the Test Match on a mid-week day off from the shop was a reminder that not everything was as before. We’ve now been open for two weeks, but only for eight actual days’ trading. It still seems like a sort of holiday (bookselling: more of a vacation than a vocation). We’re not alone in this; a quick stroll up and down South Street showed that most of our fellow independent businesses have chosen to limit their opening hours, settling for the most part on an entirely civilised 5 hours or so of opening per day with many, like ourselves, not reopening for the full 6 days a week of
retail hell customer-facing fun.
It’s certainly doing wonders for the work/life balance, if not yet the business account balance. How long this brave new world will last is anyone’s guess, but some things are inevitable. As surely as night follows day, the West Indies wrought a fine victory in the opening Test, and the very first person through the shop door on reopening day asked “are you buying books at the moment?”
Ahoy there Guardianistas! Some kind soul flogged me a copy of Tom Gauld’s excellent postcard book “The Snooty Bookshop”, which I didn’t properly check, and which I now find is several postcards short. Caveat Emptor! (Oh, the irony).
Anyway, we’ve now got about 48 lovely Tom Gauld postcards which have been filleted from the book. Literary humour at its finest, 50p per card, haggling available for multiple purchases.
Situated on the counter between the Magical Card Payment Device and The Homunculus.
The fateful day is almost upon us, and we still have much to do. Nevertheless, we will be open tomorrow at 10 am, and we be closing at 3pm.
Our full hours for next week are:
Monday: 10 – 3
Wednesday: 10 – 3
Friday: 10 – 3
Saturday: 10 -3
We will see how that goes and make any necessary adjustments in due course.
Fingers crossed and stay lucky!
Were I to trot out all the excuses for not updating our blog over the last however long (I dare not check), it would no doubt appear that I had a very large dog with an insatiable appetite for homework. This is not the case (although I do have an ever-growing child with an infinite aversion to homework).
Anyway, as you have all no doubt noticed, things have been in a strange state (no, not Kansas) of suspended animation since the Coronavirus lockdown started on 23rd March, and since we are now looking towards reopening on or around Monday 29th June, it seemed as good a moment as any to reanimate this blog and provide some thoughts, and hopefully useful, information on where we’re at and where things might go from here.
First of all, I have to say that lockdown has been absolutely brilliant. Not having had a holiday since November 2018, the global pandemic could not have come at a better time for me personally. I appreciate that some might see this as a rather selfish view, no doubt compounded by the fact that I have, for the most part, been able to do what I normally like to do on holiday: stay inside, read books & avoid people.
Now, with the new environment in which we find ourselves, it is quite possible that we’ll be able to continue to do all three of those things once the shop is open again! In fact, we’re still being positively encouraged to avoid people.
This brings us to some of the logistics of reopening. Those of you who know that shop will be well aware that it is not the most spacious of premises. Waterstones Piccadilly it is not. If we are all still being expected to maintain a six foot distance (I find it helps to think of it as a coffin’s length), it will probably mean that we can accommodate a maximum of two customers in the shop at a time. This is double the number we normally have in at any one time, so we should be able to cope.
Hand sanitiser will be provided at the entrance to the shop, and any further relevant instructions will be prominently displayed. Whichever bookseller is working/reading/avoiding people will be behind a glass or perspex screen. Frankly, this is something I should have done to them years ago.
We will only be accepting card payments when we reopen, although this is only likely to be a temporary move. We are charged by our facilities provider on a percentage basis per transaction, so there is no minimum payment requirement.
We will not have any bags available for purchases, so please remember to bring your own.
Our opening hours are likely to vary, and it possible that the hours we’ve kept for the last four years may need to be revised. Unlike this blog, we do try to keep our hours up to date on various listing sites, but our Facebook page is usually the best place to check for anything that’s happening at short notice – this note should also appear there and on our Twitter feed as well.
We will probably have more information over the next week or so as we finalise our plans, but in the meantime, stay safe and keep reading.
This is all because of my ex-father in-law, Gus. Gus is a good egg, a fine chap, a decent bloke, and (as indeed is his daughter these days) a man’s man. He likes his fiction red in tooth and claw, the bloodier the better, and, preferably spiced with a modicum of sexual deviancy. Needless to say, occult religious practices and a glowing review from Colin Wilson are de rigueur if a book is to come up to scratch.
About a month or so ago, Gus phoned me. I’d not spoken to him in several years, and I knew his health had not been great, so I did initially wonder from which side of the grave he was calling. To cut a long and slightly repetitive phone call short, we now have in the shop more works of horror fiction than I could ever possibly want (no word of a lie there). Hence, for the first time, a dedicated space for horror. Note that the picture only shows the first thirty or so titles that have been sorted out – there’s about another 150 to go.
The sale of these books (mostly at £2 each) is going to fund Gus’s continued supply of (and reliance upon) Lidl’s finest Queen Margot blended scotch. I reckon another six to eight litres should see him right.