Thursday, 24 June 2010

I am not supposed to be buying any more books. For a while.
At least until I have made an impression on The Pile.
But as I walked into the charity shop at lunchtime, I thought vaguely how nice it would be if I happened on a copy of Norman Collins' novel London Belongs To Me.
And there it was. In its 1945 bookjacket. A bit dusty but more or less unbattered.
So what could I do?
It was a Sign.
Saying, 'Buy Me.'
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4 comments:

  1. Thomas Hogglestock24 June 2010 at 20:59

    There isn't a court in the world that would convict you for buying that gem.

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  2. mary24 June 2010 at 23:14

    I did feel that it had my name on it, Thomas!

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  3. Darlene26 June 2010 at 16:06

    That's what I'm reading now and the characters are making it quite the adventure. So glad you found a copy!

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  4. mary26 June 2010 at 16:10

    Oh, good - I haven't started it yet, Darlene. I noticed that you were reading it and I think that was what reminded me that I'd been meaning to look out for it ... was so surprised when I saw it sitting on the shelf waiting for me!

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