Well!

 

Well!

I bought a book recently. There’s nothing unusual in that except that I keep telling myself not to buy any more books. Actually, I’ve bought several in recent days. One, ‘Remember’ by Lisa Genova, I bought after reading another blogger’s review of it.  Unfortunately, I can’t remember who recommended it (should make a note of these details) but thank you, anyway. I read it in one sitting.

I also bought ‘The wild bee handbook’ by Sarah Wyndham Lewis. This has some nice drawings of bees in it, but the photographs are disappointingly blurry.

‘The Importance of Being Interested’ by Robin Ince is rather harder going than ‘Remember,’ and Rosy Thornton’s ‘Sandlands’ was another blogger recommendation (again, my apologies as I cannot recall who it was.) I suggested it to my youngest daughter who is compiling a collection of short stories she has written, hopefully to be published some time next year. It’s always good to know what the competition is presenting.

During 'From My Mental Librarys's visit to Ripon this summer, Meike mentioned ‘Topping and Company’ in York, where she and her sister tarried a while. She included a link to the website, so of course I had to have a look. 

I discovered a book that looked interesting, ‘A Year with Gilbert White’ by Jenny Uglow.  He is considered the first great nature writer and he lived in Seldon, not far from my home, so a ‘local,’ much like Jane Austen.

I noticed that a signed first edition of the book was available at no extra cost, so I ordered one. I’ve always liked the idea of signed first editions. When I was teaching in Reading, the staff were invited to buy a signed first edition of David Attenborough’s book ‘The Living Planet.’ We were greatly disappointed when the print run of the first edition was exhausted and we had to be content with a signed second edition. Even so, it was something to be treasured.

The book by Jenny Uglow arrived, beautifully packaged, and it was several days before I could bear to remove the inner wrapping. New books are so special, with a wonderful smell and feel of their own, and I felt almost reverential as I opened the cover.

Well!

I couldn’t find the signature! I looked everywhere, knowing it ought to be on the title page, but searching every end page, front and back, I could find it nowhere.

I ‘phoned the company, expressing my disappointment, and they offered to send me another if I returned my copy. I demurred, not wanting to go to the trouble of parcelling and packing it. I suggested that it was unfortunate that a company should make such an error, as it would not be good for their reputation. 

After a short discussion between the person who had been dealing with me and her supervisor, they decided to send me another copy, free of charge, which I was not expecting, but for which I was most grateful. Now I have two copies, one signed, one unsigned. (Maybe it’s saved a Christmas present problem!)

I really must stop buying books!