Tuesday already.

I can't believe it's already nearly half way through the week. I've bought a few books and listed them. I've listed stock that hadn't been listed before; I have entertained visitors. Today Edward came by. He is a poet and has a book published - well I've spoken of him already. He's really a very nice chap who sounds quite public school although he only owns to having been to a private school; subtle difference. He came from Trinidad when he was six years old. When he returned for the first time a few years ago he didn't like it at all. Didn't feel at home. Certainly he has nothing of the Calypso player about him, or the limbo dancer! He is every inch an Englishman, moving in interesting literary circles, being acquainted with Radio 4 producers, other writers, journalists, University professors and etc. Useful contacts, I would have thought, for a poet. He was head-hunted recently by a member of the 'Dragon's Den' team who is about to write his autobiography. I was surprised that Edward would take on a job that will be virutally ghost writing, but he says it pays the bills nicely.

Edward was followed, coincidentally, by Kate, also a wordsmith by trade, who was having an unusually depressed day. Kate doesn't come into the shop mid week in normal circumstances and she is also a very private person who goes through her stuff alone so it was a surprise to see her and I knew she must be really down to have needed to talk. She has been translating another book by the Dutch author whose first book she translated last year; apparently it's getting her down. She is, as she says, prostituting herself to someone elses' craft. My prescription was a good walk with a notebooks and pen and time to work on her own writing away from the computer.

It seems there are lots of jobs out to be had for people who are good with words, but they aren't all very nourishing to the soul.