...you can't fix your bed with it though can you?

Settle back with a smug grin traditional book-lovers and prepare to shrivel geekoids as I bang the final nail into the (admittedly rather spiffily designed) coffin of the e-reader/kindle/futurerubbishnamefortheproductformerlyknownasthebook.

There was a bit of a disaster last night. We broke our bed. (That's enough sniggering there at the back! Finn likes to bounce - let's just say dad was trying to bounce too and leave it at that ok. You know I have this amazing knack of breaking stuff? I broke the feet off our shop heater this week. Now I bust the bed. It's what I do. OK?)

So the bed broke. Then I broke it again. More. On this occasion the breakage had nothing at all to do with the fact last night was Burn's night. Or that a certain experimental jazz band called Dog Soup were playing in the crypt of the Church at the end of our road.

But I've been digressing from the start...

The bed was broken. We had to sleep. We fixed it. How?

USING BOOKS! REAL BOOKS! MADE OF PAPER! AND WE DIDN'T WAKE UP TILL 8am! MORE SLEEP THAN I'VE HAD FOR BLOODY AGES!

In fact I'm so chuffed with our new book-bed I may put my foot down and say we have to keep it.

Before you ask I will not be posting photos for fear of causing offence to those whose proof copies may have been used to prop us up all night. A better fate still than the books that end up being sent to HMP Altcourse where - legend has it - the crims drill holes in unwanted books...

PS At C & P we don't do returns. Why? 'Cos we're stupid and lazy. Er, I mean because we never make mistakes - all the books we buy are great!

PPS If people stop reading real books I can always go into book furniture design eh?

I have an uncle called David Thomson

David Thomson in the Guardian today gave a rather glowing and knowing big-up to There Will Be Blood the film I've been going round in raptures about lately to anyone who'll listen:

'There Will Be Blood, from its first scene to the last, conveys a steady stream of breathtaking cinematic invention without ever letting us determine where the movie is going'

About Paul Thomas Anderson, the director:

'Anderson is the most ambitious and accomplished director working in the English language now and he is one of the few great living directors.'

So, David Thomson, author of the fantastic Biographical Dictionary of Film and bearing the same name as my uncle David in Limavady is on message. Hooray, I love it when people agree with me.

That was Then, This is Now

'Do you charge for ordering books on ABE? I'm looking for some out of print titles'

'Yes, five pounds usually'

'Hinton's the author, S'

'E Hinton. Erm, we have them in stock actually. American imports. Here I'll show you'

'Marvelous. Rumblefish too. I've been looking everywhere for these and everybody tells me they are out of print'

'No, just this country'

'What a result! It's going to be a great weekend'

'Happy to oblige'

!

Oscars! (Writers Guild permitting)

The nominations for the oscars were announced yesterday. Unusually for me I've actually seen 4 out of the 5 best films so here goes my best 5 in reverse order:

• Atonement - The book is a writerly conceit and the film is very close to the book. Just as manipulative as the most trite Hollywood schmaltz only dressed up in cut-glass vowels and fancy frocks. However, Keira Knightly does deserve some kind of award for really, really wearing that green dress.
• Michael Clayton - The one I haven't seen. Looks worthy but dull.
• No Country For Old Men - Gut wrenchingly riveting and gripping on the first viewing. Desert landscapes, silence, stolen money, cattle guns, Tommy Lee Jones, what could go wrong? Well, on a second viewing the whole thing falls apart. I just didn't buy it, especially the Chigurh character, a figure of death and destruction but one without context. Matthew and I have argued long about this but suffice to say, I'm right.
• Juno - Brilliant! Funny, intelligent, non-judgemental, unpredictable and with great performances all round. Seen this three times now and it just gets better and better.
• There Will Be Blood - I may embarrass myself here... Quite simply one of the best films I have ever seen. Paul Thomas Anderson, the director, made Boogie Nights, Magnolia and the much underrated Punch Drunk Love. He hasn't made a picture for 5 years and I think in that time he's been to the crossroads and made a deal... An allegorical and symbolic history of the twentieth century no less this extraordinary film taken in part from an Upton Sinclair novel starts with men literally pulling oil out of the ground with buckets and ends with an act of unparalleled madness and brutality. The film is apocalyptic and visionary and I have no problems comparing it to Bosch or Grunewald in its intensity and beauty. The performances are all excellent but Daniel Day-Lewis is just an elemental force of nature. I've seen this three times also and different parts of Day-Lewis's character reveal themselves on each viewing he simply is Daniel Plainview. It's a genuine delight to come across a work of art in your lifetime that you just know will be considered as one of the greats across time. This film should win everything it's up for, which means, of course, it won't.

Please let there be an Oscars!

Thetans

A book for a customer has just arrived from the states. Looks a doozy and I bet we could sell a few if I put it in the window. Unfortunately it has 'NOT FOR SALE IN THE UK AND IRELAND' emblazened across the back. Should I risk it? Knowing the subjects litigious nature I just can't. Any passing Hubbard devotee is going to get the lawyers on us pronto. Bugger.

The Booksheller

We don't subscribe to the industry rag but one of our friendly neighborhood reps occasionally brings us a bunch of back issues to see what we're missing.

This is from the 9 November issue:

'St Pancras Foyles arrives late

...Once the £500,000 refit is completed, the 3,500 square foot store will stock some 6,500 titles.'

Hmm. 6,500 titles in a 3,500 square foot shop. That's not much. Based on C&P's capacity which as any visitor would know isn't exactly overburdened with stock that would probably mean they would have room to stock 4 copies of every title. Which would indicate, what with todays 24 hour turnaround on ordering, that they are expecting to sell 3 copies of every book, every day. That's impressive. In fact, let's do some sums.

6500 times 4... carry the 1... times by... erm... divided by.........

Bloody hell! That's a stock turn of just over 273! Well done Foyles! Most of us are happy with 5 and a bit!

Or maybe the Bookseller magazine just got the wrong end of the stick.

Now, where's that subscription form again...

(Disclaimer: This is not a moan at Foyles! They just happen to have been mis-somethinged. Unless they really are only having 6500 titles in 3500 square feet in which case it's going to be dead roomy. Probably loads of sofas to stretch out on. Nice.)

This is fun...

Ok, we won't be able to stop blogging because however dumb it is on SOOOOO many levels it is fun.

It's probably totally unprofessional etc (YAAAWN) but we are what we are and we do what we do.

But please go easy on us for a while. We have a lot of work to do and I was up at 4am this morning.

And my kid just got his face scratched at nursery.

So I'm emotional. And boring myself now.

So I'll go home and lie down.

Maybe I'll finish the book I'm reading? BUtterfield 8

Class(room) War

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The new shop will be geographically further Sarf than this one.

Crockatt & Powell is and always will be about books books books and people people people.

When we opened on Lower Marsh we had to put up with folk saying we should be selling second-hand or discounted books because they judged the area according to cliched/stereotypical ideas of who it was who lived/worked/shopped in Waterloo.

Now we are to open in Chelsea and the predictable accusations are flying about.

We can go two ways - stop blogging for fear of upsetting people or carry on as normal. If we carry on then you'll just have to put up with it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - nobody forces you to read this. Don't like it don't look...

O.B.N

A commenter below has given us an Order of the Brown Nose for our toadying to the new shop clientele and for threatening to change the blog. Thank you sir, a timely boot up the arse to remind us of our origins.

Unfortunately, I believe it will be mostly impossible to change no matter how much we want to grovel for the crumbs from the chelsea table.

Normal service shall be resumed.

The Visitors

Some Chelsea folk having seen the bit in the standard have just been in to survey what's going to be turning up on their doorstep in a couple of months. Very exciting and frankly sometimes terrifying this bookshop stuff.

Swan-Like

No I'm not going all mockney and chatting about ballet...

Media oars Crockatt & Powell were mentioned in the Evening Standard last night. (A good customer phoned up demanding to know who our mates in the media are - but we don't have any. I don't know why they're always writing about us either!) We're opening a new shop don't you know. They didn't speak to us, just looked at the blog where Adam was wondering if he should be worrying about the new shop or surfing on youtube some more.

As you might have realised this blog causes us occasional moments of terror. People actually read this crap. What if they were to take it all seriously? (No we are opening a new shop - honest. It's so confusing!)

So for all those of you West London types wondering who these blokes from down the 'loo are - don't worry - we're not as mad as we seem.

Think of a swan. Beautiful - graceful - mostly owned by the Queen. But underwater there are bigflappyorange feet going for it...

C & P 2 is going to be brilliant.

And beautiful.

And in the papers...

(Unless they decide our heads are too big and it's time to send us crashing down.)

Gah! All I ever wanted was a quiet life and a few good books to read. BARMAN!

This doesn't make any sense

How come I really like this song when performed by these people:



Yet run from the room screaming when 'sung' by this man:



But come to think of it, how come I like that song at all? Middle-age looms large... Another birthday is approaching... My years at Napalm Death gigs are fast receding...

But continuing in a country vein, check these two out.



Doesn't that just bring a smile to your face.

A brilliant dissection

AA Gill gets a third mention in three posts. Nothing at all to do with the fact he was a regular at Pan and hopefully won't find mk 2 to offensive to his palette to continue shopping with us. Sucking up? You betcha.

Anyway this is his brilliant destruction of the new Alain Ducasse restaurant at the Dorchester. I particularly like the last few paragraphs:

"Altogether, lunch took an unconscionable two hours, but that’s by the by. The point of this gaffe is the bill. For four of us – one person only had two courses – with a bottle of £40 wine chosen by the snail-mouthed sommelier, it came to 435 of your English pounds, including £48 for service. That’s sickening. The fixed price for three courses is £75, with a £10 supplement for a snivel of black truffle. I have always said that value depends on what you start off with, but I’ve changed my mind. It doesn’t matter how rich you are, this place would deafen you with the tearing sound of being ripped off.

And I’ve got a new definition of value and worth and hospitality: if the main course costs more than the waiter who serves it makes in a shift, then I don’t want to eat it, or support the restaurant that tries to get away with it. That sort of radical divergence of society – the sort of envy and resentment that it encourages – is immoral, and bad for a city and for everyone who lives in it. And if that doesn’t spoil your appetite, then nothing short of the chef pissing in your soup will.

As I looked round, I realised that nobody in this room was actually paying for their food: it was all on expenses. And, ultimately, all expense accounts are paid for by people who use goods and services. I hope it’s scant joy for you to know that, although you will never eat, nor be able to afford to eat, at Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester, you are still able to pay for those who do."

I do love the sound of furious and righteous anger. And talking of radical divergence, on the short cycle ride between Sloane Square and shop 2 I spotted 3 Aston Martins, 2 Bentleys, A big flash Maserati, a Mercedes Mclaren and Range Rovers, big Beemers and Mercs too numerous to mention. A far cry from the Marsh. This is our new world now, I'd better start getting used to it.

The Curious Incident of the Hedgepig in Morrisons : No 2 In An Occasional Series Illustrating The Extreme Dangers Faced By The Toys Of Small Children

I'm sure you've all heard of the humble hedgehog? Beloved delicacy of the tinker and worm-eater extraordinaire? And the sheep-pig? Beloved creation of Dick King-Smith? Well Finn has (had) a Hedgepig...

Hedgepig was small and his spines were soft. To make matters worse there was a hole in his belly for fingers. From time to time he would be relaxing in the buggy when some idiot would come along, stuff a finger in his belly and wiggle him around in front of a screaming chieftain known as Finn the Merciless (by his toys). It was clear from an early stage that Hedgepig's time on earth was going to be nasty, brutal and short.

And so it proved.

On a trip to Morrisons in Peckham (take a left at the sixth ring of Hell and you are nearly there) the Hedgepig was receiving some serious Finn Love in the form of snot-wiping and general chewing etc. While mum was selecting fine premium ale for dad to drink his pigness was presumably hurled onto the floor. We must presume since there were no witnesses to the incident. It could indeed have been a desperate, suicidal even, attempt at escape.

Still the result was not in doubt. Finn spent the rest of the time in Morrisons yelling "PIIIG PIIIIG PIIIIG" and mum had to smile and shrug at various "large" people in an attempt to convince them he wasn't shouting in their direction. The Hedgepig was reported missing at customer services and a search party slouched around the ails for all of thirty seconds before abandoning hope.

Hedgepig has gone.

(Wipes away a tear)

If you're out there Hedgepig - snuffle on!

How weird is that?

Just reading AA Gill on sitcoms from yesterdays Times and he's writing about his greatest sitcom moments one of which is Neal being humiliated on the Young Ones. I look up from the computer and who should be standing in the middle of the shop? Nigel Planer! Neal from the Young Ones! A semi-regular customer. Blimey, how weird IS that?

shop two

Spent yesterday afternoon in the new shop with Matthew and our soon-to-be employee who shall remain anonymous as long as they want to not appear on this blog. Sorted out what we're selling and where and it was all jolly exciting. Soon-to-be employee no. 2 forgot to turn up. Not a good start. They shall be severely reprimanded and given a damned good spanking.

I also managed to double-lock the front door which meant the builders working on the flats above the shop couldn't get in. Oops.

Robert Hughes on Solitude

From his memoir Things I didn't Know.

'O beata solitudo - O sola beatudo! Enforced solitude, as in solitary confinement, is a terrible and disorienting punishment, but freely chosen solitude is an immense blessing. To be out of the rattle and clang of quotidian life, to be away from the garbage of other people's amusements and the overflow of their unwanted subjectivities, is the essential escape. Solitude is, beyond question, one of the world's great gifts and an indespensable aid to creativity, no matter what level that creation may be hatched at. Our culture puts enormous emphasis on "socialisation", on the supposedly supreme virtues of establishing close relations with others: the psychologically "successful" is less an individual than a citizen, linked by a hundred cords and filaments to his or her fellow-humans and discovering fulfilment in relations with others. This belief becomes coersive, and in many cases tyrannous and even morbid, in a society like the United States, with its accursed, anodyne cults of togetherness. But perhaps as the psychiatrist Anthony Storr pointed out, solitude may be a greater and more benign motor of creativity in adult life than any number of family relations, love affairs, group identifications, or friendships. We are continually beleagured by the promise of what is in fact a false life, based on unnecessary reactions to external stimuli. Inside every writer, to paraphrase the well-worn mot of Cyril Connolly, an only child is wildly signalling to be let out. "No man will ever unfold the capacities of his own intellect," wrote Thomas De Quincy, "who does not atleast checker his life with solitude."'

I wouldn't have thought Bob Hughes has a MySpace or Facebook page... and I can't help but agree with him despite the hypocrisy of me reaching out and writing this on a blog for a mercifully anonymous audience. Matthew and I being the old curmodgeonly bastards we are both can't stand facebook and don't want to have anything to do with it despite other booksellers appearing to use the cursed thing to their advantage.

We were very good all of our first year collecting e-mail addresses (over 300 at last count) and doing a monthly newsletter highlighting events and new books and 'building a community'. We even had a click to buy option on our e-mail newsletter that went through to our bookshop website (sadly no longer with us. It all seems such a long time ago and mistakes were made - big mistakes - but we are here to live and learn) So what % did you think all this brilliant marketing increased our sales by? Zero, nul, no fucking per cent at all. How much did sales increase this year with no marketing and no newsletter? I can't tell you how much for secrecy reasons but it was well into double digits.

So, the power of marketing, eh. This blog will tell you exactly what and how to market effectively and it's one of my must reads but for me and Matthew I am afraid we are lost and lonely causes doomed forever to wander the fringes of cyberspace rambling incoherently.

Hopefully the new shop will be so successful we can pay other people to run the empire and we can retreat Howard Hughes-like into our solitude and start being really creative.

"We are living in 2008..."

Eh? What's she on about? Oh yes. My overall impression of calm efficiency (ahem) has just been undermined by writing 11/1/07 in our customer order book. (Yes, we are all 21st century blogger whatnots but we still have to write things down in a book to feel confident about things. Orders go on the computer as well but...what can I say? We are paper and ink lovers at C & P)

"Only just!" I say, before adding with great confidence that the book we are in the process of ordering will be here on Monday. But she wants to give me her phone number "just in case something goes wrong".

Either I am giving off WORRYING vibes for someone about to open another shop or my massive wedding ring is not doing the trick...

Shouldn't I be working on the new shop?

Nah! Surfing YouTube is way better. Note to future employees though. Internet use will be strictly monitored!

The worst music video ever made

And the great shame is it's a brilliant song. If you listen to it with the lights off it rocks.



And as a comparison, what I reckon is a candidate for one of the best music videos ever made (highlighted before on this blog but obviously none of you bastards could give a damn. Just you wait for my detailed and exhaustive analysis of The Wire accompanied by many many clips).



Why this post? Well, Alison Krauss is on heavy rotation at C&PFM and one thing leads to another...

Song of the day

'I was driving in my car then I crashed and broke my spine'

Morriseys new single. Don't know what it's called but I heard it on the radio. He might have his problems but he can sure write a lyric.

Excitin' times

Matthews first day back today and the first real time we've sat down with the plans and worked out how many bays, tables, books, cards, wrap, computers, blah, blah we're going to have for the new shop. I'd forgotten just how much fun it is to decide what to stock and what not and how you want to display the stuff.

More good news is that the builder we used to fit out mk. 1 is free at the time we want to fit-out mk.2. Result! Off to see the site again this week. Getting very excited now...

...and all our lovely customers at mk. 1 have been coming in the last two days to say hello after our slacker-induced leisure time. Very agreeable.

A good day then.

(And a number beginning with 7! In the second week of January! And no sale!)

Deserving of its own little post

A commenter on the post below mentioned something that I thought would be better placed in a more prominent position:

From the LRB, 3 January 08. 'What I didn't do in 2007' by Alan Bennett (p.7)

15 September. Discover a good bookshop, Crockatt and Powell on Lower Marsh, a street opposite The Cut near the Old Vic, where I buy Henry James's 'The Lesson of the Master'.

Forgive me as I bask in a giant bathful of warm fuzzies.

Rip Van Powell

Yaaaaaawwwwwwwwnnnnnn. Damn, that was a good sleep.

Now, what was this bookshop business all about again?

That's SO Last Year...

Late as usual but here are books of the year (2007) from C & P. Well, from C really as P is still hiding out in a compound somewhere...no, can't say.

These are in no particular order but I have to mention Marie first or my life will not be worth living.

1: Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips

If all the folk we employ go on to reach such heights of stardom I will be annoyed but I have just about managed to accept Marie's literary brilliance. We sold more of your book than anything else this year Marie - can't wait for the paperback...

2: What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn.

I love surprises and What Was Lost tore me to bits (that's a good thing). Brilliant news that the powers that whatever have FINALLY let Catherine win something.

3: The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett.

Not only one of our top three selling books of the year but there are other reasons I feel Mr B deserves a mention. He came in to see us earlier in the year and wrote about it in his diary (published in the LRB) He left his phone number with me so I could ring him closer to Christmas and he could sign more copies for us - but in the end I bottled it...Just too nervous to ring the famous fella. But I'm sure we'll meet again some sunny day (maybe on the Fulham Road?)

4: Denis Johnson Tree of Smoke

One N storms back into the literary world with a National Book Award winning novel that was just too damned good for most reviewers/literary commentators this side of the pond to wrap their feeble brains around. Wake up you tw*ts - the man is a fu*king genius.

Ok, we are closed until 7th of Jan. If you see lights behind the shutters it's just us trying to sort out the accounts etc. Or having a big sexy party you're not invited to. Or something...

At last...

We have an event on Monday night, the London launch of Catherine O'Flynn's debut novel What Was Lost.

There's been plenty of review coverage already, all glowing, and the publisher Tindal Street Press have a good track record. (Remember Astonishing Splashes of Colour by Clare Morrall - Booker shortlisted a few years back? That was Tindal Street)

I started reading the book yesterday afternoon and I can't bloody put the thing down.

How many times do you read about "astonishing debuts"? Yeah, you don't have to tell me I know. Jaded is my middle name when it comes to publisher blurbs. But...

THIS IS AN ASTONISHING DEBUT.

It's brilliant.

If I were you I'd get down to Crockatt & Powell for 7pm on Monday. Not only will you get to hear Catherine read you can also get her to sign a copy for your collection (after she wins a few prizes these babies will be like gold dust) you can also buy one for yourself and if you have any friends buy copies for them too - it's one of those books.

An exciting book.

An astonishing debut...

Our bestselling book this week by a mile, even when you take out books sold at the launch event we had, is What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn.

It's a truly great read and deserves to do well all around the country.

There's a very positive review in the Guardian today and the Mail and Observer have already raved about it so it's not just us!

Come on people - let's make Catherine's book a bestseller - she's great, and so is her book.
Well, one retailer made a start months ago. Independent bookseller Crockatt and Powell is delighted by one of the longlisted novels.

"What Was Lost? Well I lost my mind and any sense of proportion when Catherine O'Flynn's brilliant debut passed through my eyes and into my brain earlier this year. What a book. We sold hundreds with a 'trust me - this is excellent' drive and put it in the window not once but twice. So far I have not heard a bad word from anyone. It is rare for a book to have such wide appeal and What Was Lost is a rare book indeed."

SHE WON SOMETHING!!!

Merry Christmas (Or - You Keep Your Musak to Yourself! Would You Like A Chocoloate?)

So another year ends...

Darn, I had a great "the year at C & P" thing written but the dog went and ate it. I don't have a dog you say! Well how do you know? Ok, the dog from next door ate it. Alright then, I thought about it for a few secs then decided it was a lame idea. Or I just couldn't remember all the cool things that have happened this year. Or the X-Mas port drinking is taking a toll. Or something...

A bonkers year screeches to a Christmas frenzied end. (Adam is already safe in a Muslim country where Christmas isn't celebrated and I'm desperate to close but last minute shoppers are keeping me busy so I can't.)

All that remains to say is Merry Christmas and thanks to all the brilliant people who visited C & P this year. We love you all.

Next year we open a new shop. Or C & P implodes. Watch this space. Whatever happens, it won't be dull...

PS If you fancy a job and want to help us create what we hope will be one of the most dynamic and exciting bookshops in London - come and sing us a song in January.

On my hols

What can I tell you about Milan airport?

All the women I saw in Milan airport this afternoon were having a really, really, REALLY good hair day. And I mean all of them.

What can I tell you about Doha International airport?

Yes, there's lots of 'crazy' muslim women in head to toe black, except these muslim chicks have their Abiyas fringed with a Burberry check and a gold brocade that barely covers their Manohlos ringed with slincky anckle bracelets. They meet your look with the most thinly veiled contempt I have hitherto encountered - ever - and they are all wearing enough eyeliner to tarmac a small B road across the yorkshire moors.

All in all, one prejudice confirmed and one prejudice firmly rebuked. Result.

Thanks again Marie...

Not content with crediting Adam and I with quotes that were in fact penned by Marie (the TLS - see below) we are now credited with publishing her book!

According to the Time Gods Behaving Badly was published by Crockatt & Powell. (Scroll right down.)

We wish! I was probably the first person to offer to publish Gods but, luckily for her, Marie rejected the offer and went with an internationally renowned publisher instead...

The C&P Christmas party c.1890

With thanks to Michael Cimino and surely the most underrated movie of all time. I haven't decided if it's me or Matthew on violin or more likely Charlie down the road. (Thanks for the beautiful pic Charlie)

All I know is, I'm the one with Isabelle Huppert and if Jeff Bridges is in it, it must be brilliant.



Thank you customers of 2007. See you in the new year and keep on rollin'...

Blog In TLS

Hmmm small. But I think if you click on it might help...Of course we are credited with a line that was penned by C & P SUPERAUTHOR Marie Phillips!

Matthew Spots Celeb Shocker!

Alan Rickman was in shopping this morning (with his dog).

I recognised him even though he was sporting the most extraordinary moustache I have ever seen...

The landlord and the agent

Just came to check us out. I think we passed. Mk 2 is full steam ahead.

The Italian feed...

...just crashed. Hmm.

League Cup quarter final

Just watching the Arsenal, Blackburn Carling cup quarter final through an internet feed. The commentary is in Italian. Why would the Italians suddenly be interested in a crappy second rate english competition? And what if it goes to penalties?? Stoopidohhhhhhhhhhh!

ps 'TOP SECRET' FAO: Don Fabio - Robbi Savaggio es multo bene!

Plenty more fish in the sea

So, the Dostoevsky reading, folky guitar strumming former supermodel has hooked up with Nicholas Sarkozy. Damn, if only I'd known she was single. I like Dostoevsky, folky guitar and supermodels, I'm sure we'd get along like a house on fire.

Unfortunately, I'm two years her junior and judging by her former lovers Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton and Donald Trump and now her new beau I'd say she has some 'daddy' issues. So, I guess it wouldn't work out. Would have been fun while it lasted though.

fzzztrkkkptzzkksstrkkprsssstt...

Is that the distant sound of frazzled booksellers I hear...

Roll on monday. But in the mean time, will sodding dhl get their arse into gear and deliver the two remaining boxes we should have had today, you know, the ones with all the customer orders in you tossers. It's not like christmas is a surprise to anyone, is it?

'Hey, it's christmas time. Do you think we need to lay on more vans?'

'Nah, she'll be fine mate.'

Proof I Was Not Hallucinating...

That's my right eye (the red one with glasses). That's also Toby and his new mate Jimmy Bullard - for all you non-footie types can you guess which one is the footballer?

It's A Long Story...

But after losing a rubbish football match to a last miute penalty we
somehow managed to bump into Jimmy Bullard, Mark Pembridge and Alan
Brazil (!) in a pub in Putney...

Happy Birthday Toby!

YES!! They get it! They really get it!

Two american tourists come to the till to make a purchase:

'Really lovely bookstore you have here.'

'Thank you.'

'It's like a Waterstone's where you've taken out all the rubbish.'

(Dances a little jig inside)

'That was the idea!'

The C&P recruiting policy for shop two

WE WAN' BITCHES WID GONS! BIG, BIG GONS!!

This just cracked me up

Steve Bell on Murdoch's son James taking over...


(If there are any copyright issues, leave a comment and I'll remove the post - even though it's pretty good advertising if you ask me. Find Steve Bell in The Guardian newspaper. Get your copy TODAY)

To blog or not to blog

This blog, for me, is like an invisible friend. Somebody I can talk to when nobody is listening or watching and often as juvenile as the 5 year old me with my REAL invisible friend (and 'explains' the through-the-night ramblings that occasionally appear) and as such is unbelievably unprofessional.

Which makes it very shocking when someone comes into the shop and mentions something they've read here. 'I'm sorry, that's between me and ******. Who the hell are you?'

But from next year we're steppin' up. I don't think, from experience, our new chelsea customers will appreciate obvious drunkenness, rudeness, swearingness and stoopidity. So what to do? We've got 12 days before we close for 2 weeks. C&P fire up again from the 7th of january. Expect a new, mature style that will deal with serious business issues as befits serious business men (that's us, by the way). Expect a bookselling version of the Economist. Expect dry-arsed analysis of e-book market trends and the future of digitisation in the publishing industry. Expect C&P to be the first port of call for comment on the ground-breaking trends in the field of modernist literature...

...but until christmas we'll try and slip in as many knob jokes as is humanly possible. Then it's hasta la vista 'blog-as-we-know-it' and bienvenue! brave new world.

Crockatt & Powell Go Posh

Well, we were posh from the start really...Sure Waterloo will catch up with us eventually.

As soon as the news broke Pan was closing Adam and I (who both used to work there) got busy. We were looking at premises two days later and made an offer by the end of the week. Now the offer has been accepted and we go to the legals. Since both parties are keen to do a deal I don't anticipate too many problems.

It will be a massive step up - Division two to Premiership in a single leap - and it remains to be seen if we can cope with staff...(The only person we've tried so far ended up a bestselling author!)

But C & P one was a mental risk and just about everyone said we would fail, yet two years on we're not only still here but profitable too. We are 100% sure we can make a go of it on the Fulham Road. But talk is so cheap - it's time for some action...

What have we gone and done now?!

We've agreed the heads of terms and the lawyers are doing their thing. Mid-february next year, fingers-crossed, C&P Mk 2. A small but perfectly formed shop in SW10 not too far away from the soon to close Pan Bookshop. (Over the road actually)

Crockatt & Powell go posh. You have been warned...

It's official

I am now too old to stay up all night. Baaaad idea.

At least Christmas has arrived in the shop.

And it was thus

Still, worth staying up to see a display of boxing brilliance from Mayweather. Best pound for pound fighter? Definitely.

round whatever

Floyd's a better boxer by some distance. Game over. Sorry Ricky.

round 5

I think Ricky has to knock him out to win. No more posts until sun-up.

round 4

Mayweather's good.

round 3

It's grubby and it's brutal but it's bloody brilliant.

round 2

wow

Round 1

Ridiculously exciting.

C'lebs

Wesley Snipes, Sly Stallone, Bruce Willis, Brad & Angelina, Denzel... DAVID BECKHAM!!!!!!!! BECKHAM, BECKHAM, BECKHAM!!!!!!!!!.

Chinese sense of celebdom...

Not yet....

But I am enjoying trying to tune into something (a language) completely unintelligible due to my own complacency and general ignorance...

This bastard fight won't be starting before five atleast. I could have gone to bed early and woke up... Oops, as I write, here it is!

And we're on!

It's all Chinese to me

No English commentary. No matter. I've had a crash course in Chinese over the last two hours and I'm stone cold ready for the big fight.

Tick tock

Well, I can barely think of a dozen reasons why not to stay up until four in the morning.

I want some blood...

Shouldn't I be mentioning books some more? Being a bookseller blog an' that.

It's christmas! Buy more books!

Blimey, it's getting late

Much like tonights boxers I'm having to mine reserves of energy hitherto untapped. But it's all good, I've put in the training and my body is in peak physical condition for finishing off this wine box and then hitting the single malt. It's like the alcohol Olympics and I'm a fucking gold medallist in all but name only.

But the Chinese dudes sound very reasonable. I guess it's midday on the other side of the world. Who'd of thunk that Las Vegas and Beijing would have entered into such a synergistic relationship?

Round two

My Chinese friends are distinctly unimpressed by the second bout and I can't blame them. These fighters may be hitting each other but they have the punching power of an overgrown kindergartner.

And it is reminding me, obliquely, of the new gym I've joined. I go for the lovely swimming pool but the changing room is full of 'rippled' narcissists who's physique may resemble that of the championship fighters on display tonight but the only 'sparring' these weirdos entertain is with their own reflection in the numerous mirrors that saturate the place.

First Bout over

Couple of kids barely out of school. Unfortunately one of them has a glass chin. Game over. My inscrutable Chinese chums didn't even change their tone. No excitement. But it looked like it hurt...

It works!

It's only half two but the feed is working. We're on the underbill. Trouble is, it's in Chinese... Hopefully closer to kick off I can pick up some english channels. Christ I love the internet.

However, these Chinese dudes sound like they know what they're talkin' 'bout.

Quarter of the way through the Clough book... Recommended.

In my excitement...

...at waiting for the prospect of some seriously controlled violence, I'd forgotten I'd written a blog post for The Bookseller magazine. Here it is. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense but it was written quickly and without much thought.

In other words, the PERFECT blog post.

What am I doing?

It's almost one in the morning on a saturday night. I'm home alone and it's only 3 hours to go before the Hatton/Mayweather fight. I've got no telly but I've found a website showing it for free and Yes, I am going to stay up all night.

I've got a tube of minstrels, a box of wine, bbc radio listen again and a book on Brian Clough (William Hill Sports Book of the Year). What could go wrong...

...my free website crashing. I just know it's a 50/50 call. But it's worth it. Nothing like watching two athletes at the peak of their physical abilities trying to beat the shit out of each other.

Cry-baby

Scott Pack from our near neighbours The Friday Project has an occasional piece on his blog of Songs That Make Me Cry.

Here's my nomination...



'Have mercy, Lord my god,
Let Thou my tears persuade Thee.
Look on me, how my heart doth
Weep for thee bitterly.'

I am not a religious man but you cannot deny the sublime beauty of art inspired by religious devotion. Luckily, there's no one in the shop just now...

Here's Jonathan Miller on this piece:

"There are many pieces that surprise and jump me and I never know what will get me, except one that always gets me, even if I prepare myself to it, or at least trying to resist it, to hide myself, not to ashamed myself of sobbing, and that's the 'Erbarme dich'. I don't know why it always gets me. Every time I even think about it tears start in my eyes, even now, and I don 't know what it is… It is about what it expresses. This moment of knowing, that you have forgotten that somebody said something about what you are going to do, that he will betray you. You have gone through all this dark horrible night, as was predicted. You did it, it is all done, and you only ask for some forgiveness. But the music in which it is expressed, that violin… And it does not matter if you are atheist or a Jew, by being an educated member of the eastern European culture. This is the most famous story. It is in your blood in a way that no other story is. It happens to be the most intense story of them all. You can read it again and again and again and it is never fails as a piece of drama. A priest might say that it has everlasting truth, and that this truth is religious, and you accede to it despite the resisting to the religious belief within you. It is not like that at all. It is something that is permanently there, whether you believe it or not, and that is that we are here to suffer and our designation is to die."

Yup.

God's holy trousers

Look away if easily shocked. It's a cruel, cruel world.

That German Bookshop

I am still trying to come to terms with the extraordinary difference between bookshops in Munich and London that I witnessed at the weekend and mentioned in the post below. What is it? Why is it that there should be so many more people in one than the other?

To start to answer the question one important yet stark difference between the two should be mentioned. In Munich, no offers. None. No three for two. No half price. No buy one get one half price. No £8 off. No £4 off. No displays in the front of house with This Months's Book of the Month. Everything is Cover Price.

So why, when the chains are convincing everyone that all these spectacular offers bring customers into the shop and have driven sales for the last ten years, do we get a bookshop in Munich with three times the custom a Hatchards or Borders would get but with no offers? Does this mean that if High street stores here stopped discounting there would be no customers?

Matthew and I were discussing this and we decided it was a question of value. I know it's going to sound elitist and I know there's going to be publishers and chain sellers exclaiming just how much they all love books. I'm sure there are lots who genuinely do. But I don't think you can escape the fact that publishers and booksellers have devalued books in the last ten years in this country. By their endless discounting and offers they have put the book in the same catagory as tins of beans and fish fingers in the mind of the public. Books are now things to be bought on the cheap and the great tragedy is that the process cannot be reversed. They have lost their aura, as Walter Benjamin would call it and have just become another boring bit of consumer tat.

Books are precious and bookselling should be regarded seriously and preciously. Another interesting fact about German bookselling is that you have to train for 4 years to become one, much like a librarian. It's a proper career to be taken seriously and compared to Waterstone's recent decision to change their employment structure that now makes it increasingly difficult to move out of the lowest wage scale is incredibly telling about the state bookselling has been allowed to descend to in this country.

That's odd

The new Manchester University Press catalogue came in the post today. It has wonderful books in it like Eleventh-Century German, The Public Culture of the Victorian Middle Class, British Civilian Internees in Germany and Democratising Coservative Leadership Selection. All fine and worthy topics.

But I do wonder why they chose a picture of a lingerie-clad woman with her tits nearly falling out for their cover? Odd. I know that on page 27 of the catalogue is a book on the french director Francois Ozon and that the picture is a still from his film 5x2 but the pic isn't on the cover of that book. So why does it grace the cover of the catalogue? Like I say, odd.

I Knew One Way Or The Other Somehow I'd Wind Up Seeing Her That Night

Turn up the volume - pop it to full screeen - sit back and BOOOOOOGGGGEEEEEEEE

Munchen

Gezundheit! Just back from a weekend in Munich. Beer, meat, dumplings, cabbage. MMMMMMmmmMMmMMmmmmmm. And levels of public drunkenness not partaken of by me for quite some time but they did keep coming over with them bloody steins and the oompah band was too much fun to even consider going back to the flat. Loads of great people getting really drunk in a very friendly way - brilliant.

And yet... Munich is definitely one of the calmest, most attractive and just plain agreeable cities I've ever been. Clean, modern and old in wonderful harmony and with just the right amount of space between buildings to make it a very human-scale place. Of course the trains work and are smooth and there seems to be a place for everything and everything in its place and it's all just really, really NICE.

And a bookshop like none I have ever seen. Five stories and more people browsing and buying books than any other bookshop I've been to, ever. Seriously, think Top Shop on the day of Kate Moss' new clothing line - that busy. Dozens of tills and HUNDREDS of people buying. Just dazzling and amazing, I had to scrape my jaw off the floor. (Hopefully some photos to come)

I reckon that if you sat down with a piece of paper and designed a proper city from scratch for the western disposition you'd pretty much come up with Munich. And they all speak english. Recommended.

Did I mention the beer?

Scores on the Doors

Lambeth council are showing their usual high levels of idiocy.

This morning we received a letter informing us that "Scores on the doors is a pilot scheme supported by the food standards agency to show how well food businesses are complying with hygiene law. You will shortly be receiving a letter telling you what the score for your business is."

Well I look forward to that letter. All this time I thought people were reading the books.

Now it turns out they were eating them.

I wonder what Amazon's Kindle tastes like? That's the last nail in the coffin for that idea. E-readers - useless - just too crunchy...

Back to the Boooooooooooks

Is this article interesting or just weird?

I can't make my mind up. I suppose as soon as you choose a list you can start to pick holes in it.

Are readers of arabic really so cut off? How many books are translated in the other direction? Is this a noble project or more cultural imperialism? I'm too tired to work it out...

David Healy

I salute you!

Ever the optimist I wonder if Fulham will turn out to be the club where his career takes off...

Croatia 3, England 2

The dye was set a long time ago...

The only revenge we can take is to buy up half of Croatia as a second home, drive up local prices, destroy communities and laugh heartily that if they'd only thrown in the towel in THAT game, we wouldn't flood their lovely country with middle-aged, equity-rich bores. Long live Anglo-Saxon Capitalism.

Anyway, Ha Ha, you might be in a meaningless competition, a la Eurovision, next year but we DON'T CARE. WE DON'T. REALLY. HONEST. FUCK YOU. NOBODY'S INTERESTED. SEE THE ADVERTISERS RUN, RUN, RUN. THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE CHAMPION WILL BE MUCH BIGGER NEWS THAN BLOODY ANOTHER GREECE WINNING A SHIT SUMMER COMPETITION. YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

I ain't damaged...............

No title

Truly, the most insane person I have ever met has just been in the shop. What do you say to an old lady who thinks the government have been reading her thoughts through her hair for 60 years, whose father was Hitler's accountant, who is Stephen Hawkings sister, who wonders where all the real white men have gone, who thinks she has a black cross on her forehead leading down to each eye, who is convinced that Moorfields eye hospital dyed her eyes a particular shade of green so they could see into her mind and didn't I know they've been doing it for years and much, much more. My head is spinning...

Because it's worth it

Went for a swim this morning. Had the pool to myself. Say no more.

Because I'm worth it

London can be a real beast. You get close to it at your peril always remembering not to take it for granted and always on the look out. Yesterday was one of those days the beast snapped. Moving house, everything the city could throw at me it did. At every turn a new obstacle was put in my way and I had to wriggle free only to face a new and more crushing block. By the end of the day I felt very small, alone and damaged.

But today, what a difference. A whole new set of possibilities presented themselves that with the stars being in alignment may result in, at the least, an interesting few weeks.

And capped off this evening by my first visit to my new gym. I've never joined a gym before. I'm not really into running or cycling on the spot or lifting weights. But this place has a 25m pool on the top floor in a big room with palm trees and a jacuzzi and a sauna and a steam room and the hottest, strongest showers known to man and it's only around the corner. By the time I'd finished swimming, sitting in bubbles, steaming and being pelted by jets of water I felt not only completely decadent but utterly and completely relaxed. (It's odd to me to look at the faces of the other members who all seem to be taking the whole thing just a bit too seriously. Do they not see the hedonistic pleasures of the modern day Roman bath house?)

Anyway, the beast was calm again, welcoming me back into it's comforting paws.

'There, there now. All better now aren't you. Aren't you?'

(And now I'm going to sit and continue reading Robert Hughes memoir, slowly becuase I don't have to consume as many books as possible voraciously on my little machine that stores words)

Battle Lines

I always suspected it was true and now here's the proof.

AMAZON HATES BOOKS

"Why are books the last bastion of analogue?" Amazon founder Jeffrey Bezos asked at an unveiling of the gadget in a New York hotel, referring to the recent revolution in digital entertainment that increasingly has us downloading the music we listen to and even the films and videos we watch.

The assumption at Amazon, however, and at competitors such as Sony and Epson, is that it is the book itself that will become extinct. "The question is, can you improve upon something as highly evolved and well-suited to its task as the book? And if so, how?" Mr Bezos asked. " It has to disappear."

I'd say it was a pretty clear choice. Using Amazon contributes to the Death of the Book as we know it. If you love books; the way they smell, feel, look on the shelf - then shop for them at bookshops.

Otherwise pretty soon we will all be leading "virtual" lives. Think about it. You prefer the real thing...(Even though it might be more difficult and more expensive!)

Belgium - Bonkers

Had a very funny lunch before catching the train back to Blighty.

We arrived and sat at a table for four - the only table available. We placed our orders. A few minutes passed and the beers arrived. Mary was facing into the restaurant and I was looking out the window. She described an "incident" where the waitress put a plate of food in front of a man at one table. He started to eat. There was a "conversation" at the bar then she rushed over, grabbed the plate he was eating from, sauntered over to a table at the other side of the restaurant and gave the food to someone else!

We were in Fawlty Towers land...

Next we were asked to move to a table for two that had become available. That was fine, no problem. We shifted and now I was the one with the view of the restaurant action. It was brilliant. The food would arrive from the kitchen and the waitress would look at it as though she had never seen food ever before in her life. What is this? What do you want me to do with it? Eh? Eh? Oh, it's food for a punter. But who? Oh look, it tells me on the computer it is for table five.

We had moved tables. I saw trouble ahead. Sure enough our food came out from the kitchen. "Huit!" came the call. The waitress looked at table 8 - where we were no longer sitting. She looked at the food. There was a loud argument. The people who had taken our places had not yet ordered anything. (Poor folk - by the time we left they had a beer each but that was all!) I tried desperately to catch her eye and managed it in the end. We had our food. But not all of it. A plate of frites was missing. A minute or two later the call came again. "Huit" I watched as our chips were given to the waitress. She put them on the counter. Another waitress arrived for work - maybe to help the muppets they had in already. She began to eat the chips.

I told Mary what was going on. "They must have three second memories" she said.

As each member of staff passed the plate of chips they would eat a couple. Meanwhile another table finished their meal. There was a hushed altercation and two of the group left. The others stood about and looked moody.

We had a train to catch. Some minutes passed and then the two people who had left returned and the group left. We tried to pay. "We don't take cards" said the waitress. "Then why do you have all those card signs on your window?" asked the ever logical Mary. Again the waitress looked amazed. "The machine dose not work" she said. "What's wrong with it?" asked Mary.

It turned out that the paper needed changing. (!!!) We managed to pay, left and even caught the train. I realised that the pissed off looking folk had been forced to send their friends to find a cash machine (that's another story - where are the cash machines in Belgium? There are none in Brussels)

Weirdly that crazy lunch was one of the highlights of the trip...

Belgium - Brilliant

Had a great time in Belgium this weekend. We took the Eurostar from the funked up St Pancras. Everything about St Pancras is great apart from the fact it is in Kings Cross. Can't believe people think Waterloo is edgy. Kings Cross is loud, mechanical and everyone there seems to be crazy. Must be terrifying for the Belgians arriving in London. By contrast we were able to walk from the station to our hotel in the centre in about 15 mins. Was also a little irritated by all the John Betjeman reverence. Am I missing something or do his poems really suck? The statue reminded me of Paddington Bear, but that's the wrong station...The other, kissing, statue was ok. But the effect was ruined by a drunk couple who kissed noisily (ie you could hear there tongues slurping from ten paces) on the 45 from Kings Cross to Elephant in a similar pose.

Will be brief.

Beer - great - so tasty - so strong.

Bars - great - but people smoke in them - a lot - looks weird now they've banned it here and have not woken up smelling of fags for a while - not good.

Food - awesome - Fifi and Adam both said we should go to *** **** ****** and it was as good as we were led to believe. Huge steaks. Deadly choc pudding. Also ate the best omelet I've ever had.

Shops - too many selling chocolate but loads of bookshops. None of them were chains. Not a penny discount. A civilised country?

Books - beautiful. I bought a great French book on Hokusai - I literally could not resist buying it. The paper was so beautiful. The illustrations are divine. It cost 25 Euros and WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED SO WELL IN THE UK.

Flea market - best I've ever been to.

Israel 2, Russia 1

You lucky bastards. You lucky, lucky bastards.

Thought for the day

'I think it's better to be overly ambitious and fail than to be underambitious and succeed in a mundane way' - Francis Ford Coppola in today's Independent.

No. 74 in an occasional series:

Seemingly profound yet totally meaningless statements made by documentary makers when they know that their initially promising series is rapidly deteriorating:

'It was the photographic equivalent of the Great American Novel.' (The Genius of Photography, BBC4, last night)

What? Care to qualify that?

It's interesting that this series has mirrored the arc of photography. It started well, as did photography in the 19th century, full of excitement, wonder and potential. Yet as the series moves on and tries to add weight to a mostly weightless topic it has become less and less interesting or relevant. Last nights was terrible with talking head after talking head uttering totally spurious and unsubstantiated nonsense.

The only thing good about it was the appearance of one of the truly great photographers and truly grumpy men, William Eggleston. The photographer Rankin made the only interesting comment although it was virtually ignored by the program and I suspect he didn't even realise what he was saying. Looking at an Eggleston picture he said, 'It's like a painting'. EXACTLY, Eggleston is a great photographer because he is one of the closest things photography has to a painter. He doesn't take photographs, he makes them. And that puts him head and shoulders above the others. He doesn't just react to whats in front of him you can see him actually imagining the picture before he takes it.

Anyway, the only way for the series to redeem itself is to have the final picture discussed; Britney Spears getting out of a limo sans underwear because really, that's all photography is good for these days. Oh, and taking pictures on your mobile of your mates when pissed.

Stilll, C&P will be selling the magnificent William Eggleston's Guide this christmas, a wonderful present.

I Had Another Brilliant Idea This Morning...

...but I'm not going to tell you what it was!

We will inflict it on the world and then sit back and watch everyone copy it.

My previous brilliant idea involved one of those LED displays...

Zombie Alert!

You all know how hard it is running an independent bookshop these days, that they are all dead and if not dead then probably dying?

Well reports are coming in that Crockatt & Powell in Waterloo are managing just fine thanks. This is "impossible" and so we must conclude that the people running it, the people shopping in it, the people coming to events in it are all dead too and that the Zombie shop has become a meeting place for fellow Zombies.

Some of them even (whisper it!) even claim to love books and reading...

Obscure Slovak Fiction? Yes please...

"A tremendous novel: powered by an uncompromising ferocious energy and exhibiting a brutally dark sense of humour that is both ruthless and exhilarating. An amazing find." says William Boyd.

What is he on about? Rivers of Babylon by Peter Pist'anek. In HB at just £12.99, lovingly translated by Peter Petro. 1989 - "Socialism" crumbles and "rubber baron" capitalism is born. If you, like me, find history books dull then this is a novel that claims to give a powerful insight into the extraordinary changes that took place through most of East and Central Europe in the late 80's early 90's.

Well now I know what I'll be reading this weekend, thanks Garnett Press.

Dr Rick and I were right! DJ ROCKS

HOOORAY FOR SERIOUS FICTION!!!

HOORAY FOR THE GREAT USA WHERE THEY VALUE GOOD BOOKS!!!

Hot on the heels of Cormac McCarthy winning a Pulitzer prize for his awesome novel The Road (My fave novel of last year) comes a MASSIVE WIN for Denis Johnson and Tree Of Smoke (My fave novel this year).
To cap it all the bloke didn't even turn up to receive the award.

He was on assignment in Iraq...

Where are the British writers of fiction to compete with the masters of the craft stateside? Anyone enlighten me?

2 out of 3 ain't bad

They say that the three most stressful things that can happen in your life are the death of someone close, moving house and getting a divorce. As I'm not married and by a process of elimination, I can tell you that 2 of those events have happened within six weeks of each other. Compounded by me having to move this weekend. That wouldn't be so bad except Matthew is in Brussels meaning I have to look after the shop friday and saturday then move sunday, monday. Phew.

Today was particularly stressful as we also heard that one of our former bookshops, a very prominent indie, will be closing in January that will inevitably prompt loads of guff in the papers about doom and gloom in the independent book trade. (I'm not breaking any confidences there as the news is already up on the Bookseller website - but the reasons for closing are far from people not buying books but more to do with those idiots at Macmillan and naked greed).

Anyway, moan moan moan but before you break out the kleenex and violins for poor old me my spirits have been instantly lifted by stopping and listening to a rasta playing Gershwin's 'Summertime' on a plastic saxophone outside woolies on Denmark Hill. Oh sweet joys!

And atleast I get to go to Munich next weekend to stay with my ex-girlfriend and her new husband. What could go wrong there!

I don't remember that conversation.

Strange to start first thing monday morning and find yourself quoted in the New Statesman. (Follow the link at the bottom)

More importantly though, the Bike Won! My weekly guilty pleasure, Top Gear, had a race last night across London from Kew bridge to City Airport between a bike, a boat, a car and public transport. The look on Clarkson's face was priceless. Cyclists of the world unite!

Guerilla Gardening

Last year I was on the way home after (yet another) bookshop party when I saw a bunch of hairy people on a roundabout (St George's Circus) digging. Weird time for the council to work I thought. And none of them are wearing council gear. It must be an alcohol induced hallucination, that's ok then...

But the plants were still there when I walked past the next day.

Then I saw a thing in the papers about Guerrilla Gardening and the penny dropped.

And now the Guerrillas have joined our merry band of PEOPLE WHO DO THINGS THAT WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN IF CONVENTIONAL WISDOM WAS THE LAW and named us as the exclusive stockists for their hand-harvested lavender pillows.

They really stink! But of lavender, so that's ok!

EX-Worker now turned bestselling novelist Marie can speak guerrilla - if there is a high enough demand I might try to arrange a reading from Gods Behaving Badly at our shop Christmas party - in Guerrilla lingo.

The pillows are £10 - all proceeds towards future gardening projects. We make NIL ZILCH NOTHING but love...

The Wooden Zebra Loses A Leg...(The first in an occasional series about the destructive effect of children on their toys)

Once upon a time in a land far far away there lived a wooden zebra called Ken. Ken had been carefully carved from a small chunk of wood that was used to prop open the door of a shed by a little man called Ken who worked for a mechanic under some railway arches in South London.

Ken made Ken in the spare moments when the garage wasn't busy. He would peel back some wire fencing and go and sit in the allotment that ran alongside the garage. As he carved wood he liked to smoke and ruminate on how he would kill his boss. By the time he had chipped a few slivers of wood off the block and made a Zebra he felt much better. He could face going back to the garage and smiling in a slightly forced way at the man he had wanted to kill just a few minutes before.

So Ken's manufacture involved the transformation of Violence into Love.

One day Ken died. So it goes.

When the council came to clear all the stuff from his flat they found it was full of tiny carved animals. They were carved from wood and some of them were painted with crude, tar-like paint. Ken had no family or friends so the council chucked all the animals into a tin and sent them to the dump.

There are loads of folk that scavenge a living from council tips. One of these was a lady who prided herself on her brilliant eye for a potential bargain. She spotted the tin of animals and took them home to clean. A week later they were on her brickabrack stall down the market.

It was a cold and steel-grey Saturday afternoon. The lady was on the point of packing up when a scruffy bloke stopped, a pasty half in his mouth. Something had caught his eye...

"How much is this" he said, holding a small wooden zebra towards her.

"50p love"

He handed over a coin and walked off with Ken.

It so happened that this man was rather sentimental. He had always been fond of small objects and there was something about Ken that had grabbed his attention. He would take it home and give it to his small son Finn.

Finn loved the zebra. It came with him on trips in his buggy. Pretty soon it began to rival the plastic dinosaur as a method of entertaining Finn on the bus. (Finn and dad hated the bus and only used it as a last resort. It was far better walking about.)

Then one day they were on a 68 and it was packed. There were roadworks on the blinking Woolworth Road and everyone on the bus was wishing they were somewhere else, particularly Finn. He started to yell and yell. Nothing would calm him down. Dad gave him Ken, the zebra, as a last resort but Finn was angry and hurled the little zebra onto the floor so hard his leg snapped off.

"Oh..." said Finn.

Dad was gutted. He loved that zebra and was hoping Finn was going to love him too but now he was broken.

What dad didn't notice was that now Finn was calm and quiet. Ken had taken the Violence and turned it into Love.

So it goes...

Our accountant informs us...

...that we can have a staff christmas party and claim it as expenses. Cool. So we've decided to splash out and go to a swanky London eatery. Trouble is, which one? A booksellers salary, even a bookshop owner's salary isn't exactly consonant with swanky London eateries so our experience of same is somewhat limited.

You can help. The limit is £150 a head. Any suggestions?

Adam...

Channel Four phoned up wanting to play a "trick" on you that involved secret cameras and hiding mobile phones around the shop.

They were going to pay us One Hundred Whole quid...

...but I said NO.

Hope you'll do the same for me one day mate.

Oh! What a beautiful...

I walked quietly for a good distance on this road, thinking my own thoughts with the front part of my brain and at the same time taking pleasure with the back part in the great and widespread finery of the morning. The air was keen, clear, abundant and intoxicating. Its powerful presence could be discerned everywhere, shaking up the green things jauntily, conferring greater dignity and definition on the stones and boulders, forever arranging and re-arranging the clouds and breathing life into the world. The sun had climbed steeply out of his hiding and was now standing benignly in the lower sky pouring down floods of enchanting light and preliminary tinglings of heat.

A lovely morning and those are some lovely words from Flann O'Brien's The Third Policeman.

Help! Help! My trousers are collapsing...

Like the tombliboos after a drum-roll I am in danger of losing my trousers...

My sister has so far failed to buy me a pair of jeans for my birthday (was in September) and now two of the belt loops have broken on my LAST PAIR OF FUNCTIONING TROUSERS. I have to wear a belt with these as they grip below the belly where I am quite skinny. (I try not to think about the belly. It grows and shrinks depending on the number of football matches I have attended recently)

My shoes have holes in the soles.

Gadzooks - good thing we're not in this for the money!

Still, life is sweet and there's always In The Night Garden to watch when the going gets tough.

Enjoy...

It's in English!

Happy now

I've got Arsenal v Man Utd teed up and ready to roll on the laptop. Thank you Internet.

(Although the commentery is in Thai but hey who cares when you've got free footie)

And as if by Magik...

A new edition of War and Peace arrives translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.

So who wants to buy me that for Christmas then?

Webshite

Our website has been untouched for too long due to my computers continued resistance to working. However, in the post today from Fawzia - PCRescue magazine with a free disc, The ULTIMATE BOOT CD. Fingers crossed.

Not the best way to start the day

A truck delivering 'food' to Iceland 2 doors down has just pulled up outside the shop. A giant photograph on the side of the truck of a greasy cheeseburger with limp lettuce is filling our front window.

Not good.