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Ok, there we were in mid ‘what-would-you-do-if-you-slipped-off-to-London-for-a-long-weekend’ mode and you are standing there in Portobello Market on an (early) Friday morning which happens to be National Book Day, but in fact isn't because it's really Red Nose Day.
That’s it.
However, I must point out that we haven’t
been consistent with the ‘what-if’ grammatical structure.
Fuck it, that’s what I say.
Ok, so there you might be standing up
outside the Portugese Café about to wander down to the book-seller under the
flyover….. anything happen along the way?
Well, obviously I would pass that guy on
Goldbourne Road who has the piles of things in cardboard boxes scattered around
next to the kerb.
What sort of stuff?
The insides of old alarm clocks, some
outsides too; empty bottles and old brushes. Boxes with stuff inside and often
not, but you have to check. And books.
Is this the Breakfast of Champs?
No, this is Damon Runyon, with a vintage cover.
50 pence.
Fifty?!!
Bit damaged, still nice though. Vintage cover.
Did you get it?
Yep, and an illustrated Robinson Crusoe for
the same price.
Might be worth a fortune.
We’ll see.
So how did you get to the Breakfast of
Champions?
Wandered along, nosed here and there, went
to the post office got a set of Alice In Wonderland Stamps, asked about the 3D
Jesus Last Supper and the carved wooden parrot and then picked up the
Champions.
Did you get it?
No – just relived a nostalgic moment of
reading it on a train in my twenties and went for the Murakami (editorial note t) instead.
I bet you would go to Rough Trade next.
I would.
Ok, let’s stick in a link and pick up this
flow tomorrow.
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