Have just been watching You've Got Mail on ITV2. I've seen it once before, a few years back, when I was still working in TV. That time I thought it was tedious, manipulative schmaltz. This time I realised that it was in fact cinema verite. When Meg Ryan (god knows what her character name was; as ever she was playing Meg Ryan) had to lock the door for the last time on her beautiful, quirky independent children's bookshop because it had been put out of business by the behemoth double-double-discounting chain book megastore that opened up down the road I nearly wept. Although I'll admit that the pathos of the moment was spoilt a little by intrusive bookseller thoughts like "I don't think much of those shelves", "you'd never be able to get a pushchair in there," and "hmm, we really need to get in some more Richard Scarry." I'm nothing if not a romantic. In any case if I followed this chain of thought to its logical conclusion, I would end up unknowingly locked into a torrid internet affair with Bookseller To The Stars so perhaps we'll leave it there.
By coincidence, over on BBC3 they were showing the far superior High Fidelity, of which one of the principal messages appears to be "anyone who owns or works in a small independent record shop is an irredeemable sad sack with no sense of ambition and a wasted life who would be better off as a DJ / singer / anything." Hmm. I think tonight I might snuggle down in bed with a copy of 84 Charing Cross Road and dream about the good old days. I quite fancy myself as Anthony Hopkins. With more hair. And full moons.