I had lunch with a friend today at a new business in town – a book café. I know these places are common in other towns, but around here it’s a new and wonderful thing. Even more wonderful is that the local council has actually given them permission to open on a Sunday! At last, there is somewhere for visitors to go for a coffee when they’re passing through town.
The soup was delicious, the coffee small, but pleasant. Then, of course, we had to browse. I can’t possibly sit amongst all those books and not at least look at some of them. I had the usual problem though – too many books to choose from. At last I settled on a Thomas Hardy novel I hadn’t read (yes, I finished Les Mis, but I’m still on a classics binge) and a book of Hardy’s poetry.
Now my gripe. I didn’t look too closely at the poetry book. I just thought –ooh, Hardy’s poetry, I must get it. Only when I got home did I give it a closer look. Someone has scribbled study notes all over it. Grrrrr. Why do people do that? Yes, I wrote study notes on poetry books when I was it University – but I didn’t then sell them to second-hand bookshops. They’re still on my shelf. And the notes are in pencil, not biro as these ones are. It’s really annoying.
Okay, gripe over. I’ll try to immerse myself in the music of Hardy’s words and ignore the bright blue scrawls and scorings. I’ll try. I will. Mumble, mutter, grumble...