The weather was good and there was plenty of work to do in the garden. I thought about it and knew that the best plan would be to go out for the day when I wouldn’t feel guilty about not doing the jobs in the garden. (It worked)
I love books; they have been the foundation of everything I know. I don’t need more books because I still have books that I haven’t read, but I don’t know everything so I could quite justify buying more books.
Mind you, I’m not too certain where I am going to store the new books since all my shelves are full and I can only get more bookshelves in by putting rows down the middle of the living room. This would create another problem, because then I wouldn’t be able to see the TV from my favourite chair. If I left a certain section of the shelves empty I could then look through to my TV. But the next time I bought books my TV would be less wide screen than before.
I looked at the garden and my mind was made up: I needed more books.
The plan was simple. Hay on Wye is world renowned as the town of books, and is reached by a drive through pleasant countryside on a lovely sunny morning. It has so many bookshops that there is scarcely any time to look anywhere else.
Passing through Crickhowell, I spotted one of the antiques experts from Bargain Hunt; you know the one who never smiles. I didn’t like the way he seemed to be valuing me.
One particularly beautiful part of the route is the valley running between Tretower and Talgarth. Perhaps the cwtched in feeling that a valley gives you can only be appreciated by someone brought up in a valley. You feel safe. All the land from the valley floor to the mountain top is yours to explore (providing the farmer doesn’t catch you). What is over the mountain top is foreign. And these small communities become close knit.
Entering Hay on Wye, the Cinema Bookshop is on the right and that is my first port of call. The music section is down in the basement. I’m looking particularly for books on the Ballets Russes, the coffee table type with nice coloured pictures in it and the New Grove edition on the Bach Family. Neither were there, but I pick up two other books which may come in useful in future. The one on Delius was nine shillings and sixpence when published in 1966 (47.5p) and cost me £3.50 that’s some inflation.
Next I had lunch at my favourite eatery in Hay, Oscar’s. To my surprise the board outside said “one of Michael Winners Welsh winners”! I’ve eaten there more often than Michael Winner! So why not “Odin’s favourite Dindins”. I feel they’ve missed out on that one.
My disappointment was finding two of my favourite bookshops closed. One of them had books over 5 or 6 floors (I was too out of puff to keep count), a veritable tower of learning. Their music section used to be on the 5th (?) floor, up a narrow rickety staircase, although it seemed to be on the 25th floor. They often had books on Ballet, but I’d never seen one on the Ballet Russe.
I did buy two other books, one on “Quotations for Music Lovers” which I thought might be useful if I have to make a speech, and one by Petronius which I had been looking out for: Satyrica. When I paid for the books, I wondered why I was given one of those knowing looks by the shop assistant. It wasn’t until I got home that I discovered the blurb on the back described the book as akin to “pagan pornography”!!!!!! If I ever do make a speech, I hope I don’t quote from the wrong book!
After shopping, the sun was still quite bright and I wished I had brought my Canon camera and I only had the vest pocket Fujifilm. I took a few pictures, and returned home.
When I got back home it seemed that all the plants in the garden were glowering at me so I shall have to do some gardening soon; perhaps after the Camellia has stopped flowering. (It’s still in bud at the moment) J
