and on the fourth day...

“According to Genesis, the sun, moon, and stars were made on the fourth day of the creation week. There have been many attempts to stretch the creation days into vast periods of time in order to accommodate Scripture with secular science.”

Sitting in the shop on the fourth day of its re-birth I keenly felt the rift between science and my perceived reality. God would have had plenty of time to throw together a few planets and stars between each glance I gave the clock. Æons passed but only a minute was recognised by its hands.

I can read, but am not comfortable sitting - my preferred position for reading is supine. I can write, but the problem is the same. Even a laptop, if I get one, would not solve this conundrum. Sales assistants definitely don’t lie down to serve (well not in normal retail circumstances).


Thursday was always a dull day in the shop on the High. It’s neither the beginning of the week when messages have to be gathered to fill in gaps created by the weekend, nor the end when they are bought in preparation for the weekend. The morning was terribly dull. The afternoon picked up though and the complete works of Madame Blavatsky, may her name be great, was tucked under a happy arm and left the shop. I did have to listen to a lecture on the interconnectedness between her works and those of Alice Bailey. Both ladies channelled the same being and what he said to one has to be studied alongside what he said to the other. Good thing they weren’t entirely contradicatory.

So I am back in the situation where I learn a little about a lot. (I did know most of the Blavatsky-Bailey stuff having had a passing interest at one time but most of it had slid out of the other ear).

All-in-all Thursday was better than Wednesday. I had to close early to pick a friend up from hospital in Inverness but that left time for the customer who wins my ‘Most Unwanted’ award to come through the door.

I didn’t recognise him when he marched in, a white-haired well-kempt gent in his late 60’s at a guess. He asked me if I was the ‘normal’ person in charge.

'Not necessarily normal but certainly usual,’ I chirped.

‘Well, listen this time and let’s see if you can get it right.’ (Alarm bells begin to ring loudly)

‘There’s a book about the Normandy landings. I heard it on Radio 4. I don’t know the title and I don’t know the author. Now can you find it for me?’

‘I would need my computer for that and I don’t have it in the shop now.’
‘Why not. You used to have it.’
‘There isn’t really room for it.’ (There are other reasons but I don’t feel I need to elaborate.)
‘Where is it?’
‘Upstairs’ (No business of yours... )
‘And you can’t be bothered to go upstairs to look?’
‘..er... well, ‘ (I’m always wrong-footed by people like this) ‘I’d have to leave the shop unattended.’
‘I’m here.’
Thinks: ‘I don’t know you though do I.’ By this time I’m getting rattled. I should have just cut to the chase and said that if I don’t have it I don’t have it, and that’s that. I’ve made a resolution not to order books for people. All this is going on in my head when a customer in the shelves chimes in to say that he has heard of the book, doesn’t know the details but it’s a new book of quotes from people who were present at the landings.
“Are you listening to this?” Mr. Nasty demands.

“Yes and I hear that it’s a new book. I only stock secondhand books so I’m afraid you’ll have to go to shop that sells new books.’ I name a few, all in other towns unfortunately.

‘I don’t know why I bother to come in here. Last time I came in I was shown the door.’ This is said for the benefit of the helpful browser. ‘She wouldn’t look for a book I wanted about owls.’

Then I remembered. 'I did try. You told me what it looked like and that it was about owls. I tried hard but nothng I came up with was right.’

‘The chap in Nairn found it. He knew it right away. ‘

‘That’s wonderful. He does sell new books though so he knows what’s on the market. I don’t.’

‘I shall go to a proper bookshop next time.’ He flung out.

Please do. PLEASE do!

It was less horrible than the owl occasion because there was only the helpful browser who was entirely sympathetic. Last time he flung out the shop was bigger and there was further to fling, he told bewildered customers that I wasn’t interested in books and they should leave immediately.

It makes me laugh thinking about it now but it gave me a hard time on the drive to Inverness.