When I die, please scatter my ashes in the Oxfam bookshop.

As it really is one of my favourite places in Aberdeen. Although, it seems likely I will then just be vacuumed up by a rather put-out staff member, who certainly didn’t volunteer with these sorts of goings-on in mind. So, maybe they could just pop my urn on a shelf somewhere.

Yesterday I got a lovely copy of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford.

 

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The cover has a faded section, but otherwise it is in very good condition for something printed in 1927. And best of all, it has quirky illustrations. And all for £2.99. And that is why the Oxfam bookshop is one of the happiest places on earth.

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This is my favourite, as the chapter number is incorporated into the needlework hanging on the wall.

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Aberdeen branch, staffed by helpful, book-loving people.

Aberdeen branch, staffed by helpful, book-loving people. Not entirely sure they’d be that helpful if skidding about on my mortal remains like clowns on sawdust, though.

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