10p a book! *hyperventilates*
My local second-hand bookshop, a fab place with writing groups and tea pots and nice people, is closing down. Whilst this is sad, like the vulture I have discovered am, I approached the ’10p a book’ closing down sale with all the gusto that normal women reserve for January sales, the sort you find queuing at 5 a.m. with angry handbags, prone to treading on each other’s heads and hair-pulling.
Luckily that didn’t happen, as there was surprisingly little competition in the classics section, and the picture below is about two thirds of what I bought, the other third being plays and other English lit course materials handed on to ungrateful teenagers who happen to know me. I don’t care if you are doing Death of a Salesman, owning the student version of Romeo and Juliet won’t hurt you.
I went in again a week ago and apologised to the owner for buying so much last time, and she said it was fine, it was nice they were going to be appreciated and she wanted empty shelves by the end of June. And so I bought some more,as I’m nice like that. As it is where my writing group is held, I predict next week I may have to give a good home to a few more, as let’s face it, they are like rescue dogs, books in the book shelter, needing to be taken home and loved.