I am putting a mental jigsaw together of what a hobbit looks like, based on a composite of every customer I have ever sold a copy to.

Коли я виставляв ціни на видання, до мене підійшов старший чоловік і попросив: - Не допоможете мені знайти книжки із самодопомоги? Певний, що він не помітив у цій фразі суперечності, я спитав, яка самодопомога його цікавить. Той відповів: - Сам не знаю.

This group derives an alternate sort of gratification from the fact that their niche obsession somehow differentiates them from other people, mistakenly assuming that it makes them more interesting.

Prefacing a sentence with 'I don't want to appear rude, but...' flags up the same alarm bells as 'I am not racist, but...' It's quite simple: if you don't want to appear rude, don't be rude. If you're not a racist, don't behave like a racist.

A less than friendly email this morning... [from a booksop customer]After lunch I went to my parents' house to get my shotgun and shoot a kindle (broken screen, bought on eBay for £10)

It should go without saying that anyone who introduces themselves as 'a bit weird' is almost certainly not.

Money can't buy happiness, BUT it can buy books (which is basically the same thing).

When the old man in the crumpled suit came to the counter to pay for the copy of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, I discreetly pointed out that his fly was open. He glanced down - as if for confirmation of this - then looked back at me and said, 'A dead bird can't fall out of it's nest', and left the shop fly still agape.

Awomen spent ten minutes looking around the shop, then told me that she was a retired librarian. I suspect she thought this was some kind of a bond between us. Not so. On the whole, booksellers dislike librarians.

...people still cling to the notion that first editions are somehow imbued with a magical and financial value.