Once or twice a year I remember why penguins walk in that amusing way.

The condition of the High Street pavements, covered with frozen and/or slushy stuff, should ensure a steady supply of broken legs and arms for the NHS plasterers to practice on and there were plenty of hardy or foolhardy folk out waddling along on them, which was good for me because my doorbell kept ringing as they slid through into the cosy warmth of this little bookshop and its last ever week got off to a really good start.