Well that was a difficult hour or so. The first call was to an Abbeyfields retirement home, a very nice place. It was nearly lunch time and the food smelled great. The hopeful seller met me in the entrance hall although he is nearly blind, and escorted me up in the lift asking me carefully if I minded being in a lift. He was very smartly dressed and kindly. He told me a lot about his life; he was 'in retail' in the furniture trade in Glasgow; undoubtedly he had a responsible job in marketing in a wider sense and wasn;t merely a shop assitant. He told me how he came to be in the Abbeyfield house in Nairn. Ten years ago when his wife had terminal cancer and he had suffered a stroke looking after her, their daughter had persuaded them to come further north so she could keep an eye on them. He has a large pleasant room with facilities to make a snack, ( a microwave and kettle) and an en suite bathroom. All meals take place in the communal dining room. In a household of women he is the only man, but he told me that he doesn't let them bully him! After that little exchange he put on some nice music and left me to look at his books. My heart fell somewhat because the hardbacks where Folio Society editions and whilst they can be very good theauthors where were Dickens and Thomas Hardy. I have got two complete Folio Society sets of Dickens and almost two of Hardy. They are very common; probably the special offers. The rest were paperbacks, all in good condition but a paperback is a paperback and all those undercutters on Amazon will without doubt have been chipping away at the value of these like beavers with a big dam in mind. There were a couple of books I didn't recognise because they were about Glasgow architecture and they looked hopeful, but the others where quite ordinary. It's always a risk but there were 50 books and I thought £100 was what I could offer. He immediatley, albeit politely, refused saying that they were worth more and he was sorry he had wasted my time. I didn't try to explain my reasoning, it would only have looked as if I was either arguing or being defensive. We parted friends (I hope.) On the drive to the next call I felt I wanted to write to him. At eighty five he deserves respect, which I hope I gave him, but I wondered if maybe I should have explained a little more about the book trade today and the bookdealer's rule of thumb which is, as I read it, one third of the profit on any book goes toward the upkeep of the shop (rent, rates, lighting etc. etc.) one third is for the buying of more stock; and the last is for the dealer's own use. Which means I would have been hoping to get £300 from his books, and I'm not sure that would have been possible. Most dealers will stretch a point when it comes to a book they know will sell easily; for instance I will take a 50% profit on a local book that I'm sure will sell quickly. I will also offer more or books that might sit there a while because they are expensive, but when the right buyer finds them he will be delighted. Then there are books that will be taking space on the shelves in three years time, costing money to give house room to, and they may well have to be discounted before anyone will take them.
Imagining that the next call would be better, I bounced up a very long farm track praying my exhaust wouldn't get caught on the high ridge in the middle. A nice cheerful chap, half the age of the elderly gentleman, but also very kindly and softly spoken, ushered me into his house. The wall of bookcases looked much more promising. I took one look at the tatty hardback set of R. L. Stevenson he thought I would want and rejected them, but started pulling out paperbacks with enthusiasm. As I started to pile them up he cleared his throat a bit nervously and said that perhaps he would have to check with other members of the family before letting certain titles go. NOW he thinks of that!! I suggested that at least I should continue to pile them up and then make an offer and he agreed that would seem to be the best way to go. When I finally made my offer he thought about it a moment and said it would be better from his point of view if I could give him the price I was offering for individual books. DOH! No, I couldn't do that. Individually price at least 100 books whilst he stood over me. As politely and calmly as possible I explained that if I had to do that I would charge him for my time.
He will consider my offer with his family and get back to me.
So once again I drove away without any books. Petrol being the price it is now I am not amused. I don't think I have ever found it so hard to buy books before. I hope this isn't the shape of things to come.
Happily Chloe gave me some treatment on my back and now I am well-balanced and floating on air, disposed to forget the whole interlude and start again afresh tomorrow. The chap with the farm track can find an alternative placement for his books.
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