I got away from everything the other day. Went on one of my round-Scotland, crappy-book-buying days out. (to be honest it's less of a round Scotland than an across Scotland: back and forth, from here to Inverness and back via both sides of Loch Ness.) Next time I go I'll have to find a new route as my main stop, The Shed at Kingusie, is closing. I loved The Shed. The books used to be stacked in piles along one side tottering, sometimes mouldering, piles of books in front of a wall of crammed shelves. For the last few years used to visit once or twice a year and move the whole lot - once coming away with 70 trash treasures. This last trip I brought away a few Penguins for the old long-term obsessive pre-ISBN Penguin collection (currently at some 639 books) and a couple of old Pans for the more recent, and as yet less well defined, obsessive old Pan collection (pre-decimal edition certainly but I'm swithering about including pre-decimal ones with ISBNs...* )
"Are ye sure don't have anything smaller?" she asked. "I'm awfy short of change here."
She reached into the drawer. "While you're there you wouldn't mind getting me some change too would you?"
And handed me, a total stranger, a ten pound note.
*Christ! I miss sex.