The early summer wasn’t the only surprise I had this week.
This book was bought in a bookshop in Tonbridge. A floor to ceiling of books, bookshop. A, books in every nut and cranny possible, bookshop. A quaint, but the space is probably substantial if the books towering everywhere didn’t close the place in, bookshop. Such a small and full bookshop that you fear anyone coming the other way for you’ll have to awkwardly breathe in, despite it making you bigger, and squeeze past each other, risking books flying everywhere, bookshop.
Places like that are true gems.
And it’s still on giving..
While reading on my knitting blanket in the garden, completely engrossed, I turned the page and a sheet of paper was neatly folded and tucked into the margin.
I like to believe someone left a note for the future. I like to believe a whole fairy tale of things that I won’t list, but yes, some of the stories include a secret agent.
I think it was actually someone working out a Christmas card.
A true treasure from the past.
I slipped it back into my book and continued reading.