The Naming of Toad

Since trade is slow just now I’ve decided to spread my eggs into other baskets starting with ebay. I put some into auction last week and have opend an ebay shop. Now I hear ebay Italy is closing the shops and It is predicted that ebay UK will follow. Oh well. I think there will be still some sort of way for sellers to put books on at ‘Buy Now’ prices that will come up in searches and so on. Amazon closed their shops way back which wasn’t a bad thing as I don’t think I ever sold anything from mine. We can make our own listings now for obscure titles so it isn’t necessary. It’s all rather dull but has to be done to keep the money coming in. I don’t understand sellers who complain about trade but do nothing to maximise their chances - I'm thinking here of a colleague in the business who can't be bothered to use the wonderful outlet that the internet provides and wastes time complaining about missing Mr Toad dreadfully because he can’t move his books on as he used to when that voracious bookbuyer stalked these wards.

Mr Toad had the reputation hereabouts for buying anything and everything. He’s missed by many as a quick source of income. If the cheques didn’t bounce of course. Since this is another dull day and raining to boot I think this is the time to give the story that led to:

The Naming of Mr. Toad.

There once was a Naughty Book Dealer who couldn’t say no to books. One day he went to look at the books left by an elderly gentleman who had just died. The books were moderately interesting but there were many a less acquisitive bookseller would have said no to and they could easily have gone to the recycling yard. Some of them were in a in a not-very-nice bookcase which had a glass front. Now the naughty bookdealer wanted a bookcas ewith glass doors because all smart bookshops have glass fronted cases in which they keep their valuable tomes. Having such a bookcase would therefore be , in the eyes of NBD a symbol of his position as a real player in this bookselling game. In an excess of enthusiasm he offered a sum which was more than the books and the bookcase were worth and it was accepted. NBD was very pleased when the six heirs agreed to have a cheque each, thereby giving them immediate access (or so they naively thought) to their share. NBD on the other hand saw this as staggering the flood of cheques into his account, which of course at this point didn’t have enough money to cover the purchase. He went home happy. The heirs drove away to their homes in southern England, also happy. For the moment.

The six cheques bounced. There were polite phone calls and the cheques were re-presented. They bounced again. All of them. This bouncing costs a lot - about £30 per cheque on a business account I think, but no matter. NBD doesn’t count this sort of cost; he had the books and the dilapidated bookcase. The phone calls became rather more acrimonious and as the first generation descendants lived 600 miles away there was talk of sending in a couple of grown-up sons to ‘collect.’ There was also talk of writing to the local newspaper and exposing him as a ... well, at the very least a conman. Worse threats may have followed; certainly a deadline was fixed and the NBD was for once moved enough to see something had to be done. One morning I was called up to fetch him away from the shop because the visit from the sons was imminent. When I got there a car with two large strapping looking lads had been seen in the vicinity. It was arranged that a friend would mind the store for the day, holding them at bay, until NBD could return with the money. I seriously misdoubted his ability to find it but my remit was, since I had no money to contribute, simply to be chauffeur and not offer opinons. He slunk out of the house crouched low and slid into my car, keeping his face averted from the road. From the corner of my eye I saw him reach back to grab something. My pink fluffy beret had been lying on the back seat, he pulled this over his bald head and I drove away with my ‘female’ companion sitting rather low in the seat beside me. Anyone who has read ‘Wind in the Willows’ will remember Toad’s escape from prison as a washerwoman. From that moment I could never think of NBD in any other role.

From the sanctuary of my home he phoned around mates, relatives and acquaintances; he approached other High Street shop owners, asked his barber if he could help him out... and amazingly people came through for him. We drove back just as the two young oxen loomed through the doorway for the last time.

Mr. Toad (in Wind in the Willows) has another trait which is reminiscent of NBD. He is often very remorseful. He can even become depressed when he thinks of his wrongdoings. However, the moment he gets out of prison (or debt) he is crowing again, (rather like the irrepressible Peter Pan) ‘Oh the cleverness of me’ and is glowing with success again; the cleverest chap ever. With a cheery "Toot Toot!" he is off and away again.

From this school of learning it was that I gleaned skills as a bookdealer. The first lesson: don’t buy if you don’t have the money in the bank. The second: don’t pay too much for books; if the seller doesn’t like your offer there will be more offered tomorrow.