WEDNESDAY, 1 OCTOBER
Online orders: 4
Books found: 4
Nicky and Flo both in today.
Today was my forty-fourth birthday, so at lunchtime I went to Rigg Bay for a swim in the sea with Anna to mark the occasion in the same way that I have done for the past thirteen years.
The Writers’ Retreat was unusually busy by lunchtime for a weekday. Among the retreating writers were the journalist Allan Little and Richard Demarco, who must be in his eighties now. Richard was instrumental in setting up the Edinburgh Festival, and Allan, who grew up in the west of Galloway, was one of the BBC’s finest journalists. At its busiest time there must have been thirty people in the room, at which point Maria, who was bringing in a tray of food, spotted something on the floor that looked suspiciously faecal. She quietly gestured to Laurie, who came over, and they hatched a plan for her to find a cloth and remove it before anyone else saw it. Maria discreetly stood over it to ensure that nobody trod in it. As she was guarding it, Allison marched into the room, saw it, pointed at it and said, ‘Oh look, a shit!’ before Laurie had the chance to remove it.
The source of the shit became the subject of discussion for the rest of the day, Nicky leading the investigation with forensic scrutiny, which included rifling through the bin to retrieve it so that she could measure it. She became increasingly convinced that an elderly visitor had done it without noticing, and that it had slipped down their trouser leg. Other theories included the suggestion that it was actually icing from my birthday cake, which Anna had made. When Stuart suggested that the turd may have been Captain’s, Nicky’s instant and vituperative response was, ‘Nae chance, the bore’s wrong’.
The interview recorded earlier in the month with Border TV was broadcast on their magazine programme Border Life. Mercifully, I missed it.
Till total £395.93
45 customers
THURSDAY, 2 OCTOBER
Online orders: 2
Books found: 2
Flo and Nicky in.
I spent most of the day editing a promotional video about Wigtown that I’ve been putting together purely because of the diabolical lack of attention that Visit Scotland pays to this corner of the country. For decades it has been referred to as ‘Scotland’s Forgotten Corner’, and many visitors appreciate that element of it, but it ill-becomes our publicly funded tourist agency to forget it. On the Visit Scotland web site, under the blurb about Wigtown, there is a photograph of the golf course at Glenluce, twelve miles away. It really can’t be that difficult to find a picture of Wigtown. I have even emailed them one of my own, but they have yet to substitute it and probably never will.
Lunched with two Italian women – journalists who were over because they had read Anna’s book and wanted to visit Wigtown. I am quite convinced that Rockets has done far more for tourism in Wigtown than Visit Scotland ever will.
Nicky and I did a slot on Wigtown Radio between 3 and 4 p.m. Unfortunately someone had muted the music on the computer, so Nicky had to keep talking until I worked out how to fix it, which took about half an hour. She dried up a few times and was clearly not enjoying it, but she did a decent job of presenting. As soon as her shift was over, she left the cell and demanded whisky.
The comedian Robin Ince arrived at about 6 p.m. He wanted to browse in the shop, so I put all the lights back on and left him to it. He bought a pile of books. Nicky and I went to his event in the County Buildings at 7.30 p.m.
I posted the video of Wigtown that I had been editing on Facebook.
Till total £319.05
40 customers
FRIDAY, 3 OCTOBER
Online orders: 3
Books found: 3
Flo and Nicky in.
A customer asked Nicky if we had any rare John Buchan titles in stock. She found a copy of The Scholar Gypsies, which was £100, and told her that she could have it for £80 since she was doing an event. She turned out to be his granddaughter, Ursula Buchan.
In the afternoon I picked up the Italian journalists and we drove to Cruggleton church, a Norman church in the middle of a field, with no glass in the windows or electricity.
The event in Cruggleton consisted of Tom Pow reading poetry, accompanied by Wendy Stewart on harp and Alex McQuiston on cello. Entirely candlelit, it was an extraordinarily beautiful event. On the journey home in the van I was emptying my pocket to show one of the journalists the programme (she wanted the performers’ names for her blog) and produced from it a teabag in a pouch that I had taken from the Writers’ Retreat. Unfortunately it looked exactly like a condom. Both of the Italians saw it and there was an awkward silence while I pathetically attempted to demonstrate that it was actually just a teabag as they edged slowly away.
Allison’s event – a play about Borges – was on at 6 p.m. in the old warehouse at the back of the shop. Anna had been directing her rehearsals here all week. We had to change the access from the garden to via the road because the lighting on the path in the garden had fused, so I led people there in small groups in the driving rain. In no time I was completely soaked. The event went well, although Anna did not look particularly pleased.
Heavy rain continued into the night. Before long the gutter was blocked and water was pouring into the Writers’ Retreat, so Laurie, Nicky, Anna, Stuart and I spent some time frantically racing about with buckets and saucepans. Despite our efforts to limit the damage, the water came down through the floor of the Retreat and into the shop.
Till total £239.05
38 customers
SATURDAY, 4 OCTOBER
Online orders: 4
Books found: 2
Flo, Bethan and Nicky in.
Nicky opened the shop to find water still flooding into the building from the blocked gutter. We tried to clear the blockage with a broom handle from the bedroom window, but it wasn’t long enough, so I went down to the cellar and found a drain rod. Half hanging out of the third-floor window in the torrential rain, with Laurie holding my ankles, I eventually managed to clear it. It stopped dripping into the Retreat at 10 a.m., just as we opened.
Sally Magnusson and Margaret Drabble were in the Writers’ Retreat when I appeared, soaked, to check that everything was ready. Lucy (Maria’s helper) cornered Sally to ask her about journalism, which she very obligingly and enthusiastically discussed for a few minutes. Damian Barr bought some books from me. I had no idea who he was at the time.