It’s the most wonderful time of the year
I think the joy of being in a bookshop puts people at ease and some customers share their lives with me. These, usually unprompted, insights are sometimes quite beautiful and leave me in awe thinking how many people are bustling along the high street, gathering their Christmas gifts, all with their own stories to tell.
Recently I had an encounter with two customers, back-to-back, which left me teary eyed and thankful that I’ve chosen the career of bookseller. For however long I get to do this job I’m very grateful.
It was Bill, a deserter of a tinsel and turkey coach party gone wrong, who walked in first. The coach had broken down and whilst other members of the group waited for a mechanic Bill took initiative, jumped on the number 91 and made it back to Newquay with plenty of time for browsing before heading back to the hotel.
He ran a jazz club in Newcastle for 10 years with a beloved friend who used to work in a record store in LA (and this friend once told Doris Day to get to the back of the line when she tried to push in.) I think Bill thought his friend perhaps more interesting than him, but Bill was a character.
We spent 15-minutes or so putting the world to rights. He finds the union jack flag flying trend worrying and hates to see them hanging in his hometown, up north – as we Cornish say. We touched on the covid pandemic and the lack of comeuppance for those in charge and then he told me how his daughter had sadly died during that time.
Several things led to her passing. A wheelchair user she fought for her own rights, and her colleagues’ rights, as she worked in a system that wasn’t always accommodating to her and others like her. He said he’d like to see her go up against Keir Starmer and we laughed. Bill told me about the last photo taken of her and her dog up a tor – I’d never really thought of last photographs before his mention of hers.
We exchanged names and I said his daughter sounds like an amazing person, and Bill said she is and that he still loves her. We said goodbye and I pointed him in the direction of a good pub lunch.
Just as I was stood on the pavement waving Bill farewell, I could hear the next customers behind me stepping inside the bookshop.
The following encounter was a little girl celebrating her fifth birthday, covered in badges she was there to choose a book for her present. A local family, I’ve seen them come and go and watched the little girl grow in confidence each time they visit.
She was extremely excited after her birthday at school, and I asked if they were having a special birthday dinner that evening, “chippy tea” she said with a jump, looking to mum for confirmation that was still the plan. She chose a Charlie and Lola book and told me about her role in the nativity. I wished her a happy birthday again and waved them goodbye.
I think a gentleman on a coach trip and a little girl celebrating her birthday are equally important customers and have equally interesting lives. The magic of bookshops is that people of all ages can find something in store to bring them joy.
There aren’t many public spaces and job roles where you can talk so openly and beautifully about the death of a loved one and the next moment celebrate a little one’s birthday. Bookshops are full of life and stories and magic and lovely happenings.
Thanks to Bill, and that little girl (and perhaps it being Christmas which is always an emotional time of year) I was a bleary-eyed bookseller for the rest of the day – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I hope you find some solace in a bookshop this festive season!
