h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I've been missing my customers lately. Before I gave up work, I had a lot of regulars at my bookshop, and I knew exactly what sort of books they liked, and how they liked to be treated, and something of the dramas of their lives.

I miss the elderly customers who came in to buy writing paper and stamps and cards, to remind their ever-absent families how loved they are; they'd pass the time of day with me, discussing the weather and reminiscing at length.I miss the authors who came in doing the 'author's scuttle' in order to see who was buying their books. I miss the stream of intellectual priests who came in to find material for their sermons among the history, sociology and current science sections of the shop. I miss arguing politics with the lecturers who came to hand in reading lists for the coming semesters. I even miss looming over the shoulders of the schoolboy gangs who came in to shoplift, and watching as one particular small boy filched stolen items from his friends' pockets and palmed them back onto our shelves.

And the eccentrics--bookshops are magnets for eccentrics: druids in flowing robes flicking through 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire'; drug addicts browsing the herbal medicine books for ideas; an autistic man who hated yellow and who stood in the middle of the shop reciting the last book he had read, verbatim; a man who wore marigolds everywhere, except in our bookshop, where they got left on the counter while he browsed; a paranoid schizophrenic who sat on our step to drink tea I'd made for him, terrified that a giant fungus would consume him before he finished it--he'd talk to me about God and Satan, dreams and witches.

Well, on my way back from the library yesterday, I stopped for a rest on my customary bench, and a busker approached me. He had bought many music books from me over the years.

"Hallo, [Snailrind]," he said, remembering my name. He sat down beside me and began to talk about his busking--how he had started off with a recorder, and then had saved up and bought himself a clarinet, and was soon going to be able to afford a saxophone to serenade the summer tourists with. He opened his book of musical scores, slotted his clarinet together, and played three wonderful tunes to me--not because he wanted my money, but because he wanted me to hear the music he had started to learn as a customer at my shop.

Must be hard on you but look what you can add to your book,at least you have the experience and the abilty to do that..some don't get that chance

Hi, carino.

It's not hard on me really, but thanks for the sympathy. I haven't quite got used to the change, that's all.

It can be very nice living at home and doing things at my own pace, without worrying that people will think I'm lazy. I was starting to get bored out my mind, but now I've found some interesting things to occupy my days with (not my book, though--it's winding me up).

Haven't seen you around much lately. How're things?

Watcha upto then, these days?

Well, I've written a fable about a King of France's menagerie keeper, and a micro-play about two Egyptian gods and a busker, and done some copy editing for one of Gothly's work projects, and I've joined a book review scheme in the library, and I'm reading Harry Potter in Greek and I'm learning to recognise each individual pigeon that lives near my favourite bench, and I'm secretly attempting to figure out what the hell programming is all about so I can surprise Gothly with it, and I've been visiting my neighbours and spying on the cats and trying to tame my fish.

I see you like visiting the library too. What do you look for in a good book?

oooo...lorra good stuff there SR

...err...what do I look for in a good book? I guess if its good I'm not looking for anything? Does that make sense?

I'll read anything...even work notice boards, graffeti in busshelters etc

Seriously tho, when in the library, most times I forget what I came in for, if in fact I went in for anything in particular at all, and I just mooch up and down the aisles waiting for a title or book cover to leap out at me

Sometimes I can be looking at a title or picture etc...which reminds me of something that was mentioned, or something I'd read, so I'll skip to the relevant aisle, only to forget why I was there..find another shiney....and you get the idea

Its a great way to know a bit about everything and yet know nothing at all

Rarely I manage to come out with reccomendations that people have told me that I need to look out for...

So there's no point in recommending any books to you, then....

Well, *never* read anything by Philip Pullman, ok? Definitely don't look for him in the teenage/young adults section of the library. In particular, don't read 'Northern Lights'.