Almost out of here.

Kudos though, to the woman who phoned this morning to find out what time we closed this evening.

When we told her five o'clock, she said indignantly, But on your website it says you are open until SEVEN on a Tuesday!

Happy Christmas to the rest of you.

This man is pleading with me.

He looks around the shop.

You got a reindeer, he says.

I shake my head, No, no reindeers, I say.

He looks confused.

Are you sure? he says.

A little cuddly reindeer? he says.

No reindeers, I say.

He puts his head in his hands. I don't know what she's telling me, he says.

No reindeer? he says.

None, I say.

She's going to kill me, he says.

The greatest novel you've not never read.

At least not if you are a customer of The Bookseller Crow.

A year ago to the day we voted Stoner our book of the year.

You might have heard me mention it from time to time.

A year later Waterstones have voted it theirs.

Do keep up chaps.

Later in the week we will tell you what our novel of the year is for his year, which should give Waterstones plenty of time to get some stock in and some stickers printed for next December.


I know what's going to happen in the morning.

I'm going to be slowly, perhaps too slowly, putting the shop back together again and some poor soul is going to be finger-drumming on the counter.

And I am going to say, Sorry about that, but we had Kristin Hersh playing in here last night and I'm still clearing up.

 And they are going to say, Yeah, sure you did, yeah, sure you did.

Oh look, David Beckham just rode a unicycle passed the window.

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