First through the door this morning were an Australian couple who have a secondhand bookshop back home and were just curious to see inside a Scottish on. A rather scruffy Diane Gabaldan I have priced at 50p would, they told me, fetch £5 on their shelves.
Last week the Canadian homecomer told me the set of faux leather Dickens I have on offer for £25 would be £200.
Now they may be exaggerating in the excitement of the moment but I do now understand how people make a living shipping loads of books out to those countries. The Australians also said that on an average day in their shop they are so busy with books coming in and going out they can't sit down, still less do a crossword (which is what I was mulling over peacefully when they arrived).
Too late to emigrate.
I shall be moving in the foreseeable future however. Chloë has finally made the decision to take over the shop and, to my surprise, also the house around it. She wants to save her over-worked body which is suffering from the amount of massaging she has to do, and develop, as a second string, a health and whole-foods shop where she can also sell the sort of gadgets people interested in excercise like to have about their houses together with ergonometric back-packs and support cushions etc. etc. It should do well I think. She's put her own house on the market, which in the current climate could take months to sell but when it does - all change! I'm looking forward to it. Mostly because I rather like changing houses. The actual move might be a bit grim but I'm up for it.
It's nice that there will be some change in my life. I'm aware that practically none of the projects I set for myself this year have come to fruition; that doesn't bother me as the time has passed pleasantly enough, but stagnation is never good.
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