I am
a little wary of speaking out or deciding. My Gemini nature means that I tend to see both sides
of a story. “But,” I say, hesitating, “what about this or about that?” or even maybe . . .” Fence-sitting, that’s what I do.
(I’m not talking about current Big Issues here, because they are often so deeply sad and complicated that speaking rationally about the inevitable developments is almost impossible.)
However,
three weeks ago, I really made my mind up.
I was ANGRY.
I’d been into my local
bookstore, looking for a short-listed title which wasn’t in stock, which seemed
surprising. Then
I spotted that the stock of children’s books seemed thinner and that teen and
Y/A books had been squashed into the same cramped corner. In fact, looking
round, lots of shelves seemed thinner. I felt even angrier. If there’s one
thing I know, it’s that good, well-managed book-stock makes a bookshop. Aha! I spied a
jaunty, hand-written A2 poster, decorated with friendly felt-pens flowers was
near the door, inviting people with barista experience to run
the new café .
ER . . . WHAT
CAFÉ?
That
was when I noticed the hammering and sawing on the floor above. As I queued up at
the counter, checking a gift-card’s expiry date, the rushed staff told me that a
new coffee shop was certainly planned for up there. Gah! Even by my calculations, a
cafe would need to be more than a perch-on-one-of-two-bar-stools-at-the-counter
kind of place to be worth it – and that meant fewer bookshelves and less books.
I
was, by then, furious and righteous. This town is full of cafes and coffee
shops, including several independents. Why did we have to lose good book-stock
space for another café? Harumph! I
even posted about the unfairness of it all on my just-begun Cranky Laptop blog, which is almost too new to be visited.
Grrr! Fume!
Angry, angry! I
was so cross and dispirited that for several days I stayed away from the offending side of
town. Then as I was driven past, I saw that the whole exterior was being redecorated,
which was even more puzzling.
Last
Friday, I had to pass by the bookshop and couldn't help but see that - outside and in - the place was
looking quite lovely. Nice, grey-blue paint outside. Inside, instead of the old
polished-wood shelving stacks, was an airy mix of muted sea-blue, gentle
dove-grey and a pale, creamy white. I wandered around, listening to what people were saying and
they all seemed quite pleased and smiley. I even felt smiley.
However,
I was still bristling about that lost book-stock space until, to my shame, I
heard someone say these important words “. . . and they’ve added another floor.”
A what?
Yes, another
floor! The shop now has three floors instead of two!
I
went up those stairs and saw the first floor – the one that is almost half
a rather nice café – now had a children’s book area spread across the rest of
the space, plus some – ahem - useful and needed “small rooms”.
I even spied a
public lift, useful for families with toddlers as well as for widely-read and
under-fit customers
I
went to the counter, taking the offered free coffee – the
staff were still practising - and asked about the second floor. Yes, it was true.
Not only was there
a second floor but suddenly, sitting in that pleasant cafe space, I thought “This bookshop can now host author events!” Real events, not just small signings.
There
was even a children’s illustrator there already, with his standee banner and
pile of copies, even though the shop doesn’t open properly until Tuesday:
Andrew Sanders was getting ready to introduce children and parents to his drawing
and to his picture book I HAVE AN ORANGE JUICY DRINK, recently
published by Fat Fox.
I
must say that I felt rather chastened and ashamed of my earlier crossness. I did see a couple of the original members of staff about so they hadn't all been pushed out, which was another of my frets eased! Besides, the
shop did look quite impressively stocked and there were still some stands and shelves still waiting to be
filled. The top-floor space is allocated to history, biography, travel
and various factual books, in addition to the new non-fiction display
just by the ground floor entrance.
I even pondered - turncoat! - as I drank that free coffee,
about using the café as an off-peak working space.
I
know, in the wider scheme of things, that this single shop expansion doesn’t
seem very much but at a time when one starts to expect bad news and disappointment all around, I was glad to be proved wrong. One has to grab nice moments when they happen.
It
felt joyous to see interested and happy faces, and to hear murmurs of approval from
the browsing (and hopefully book-buying) customers. The shop might stock more puzzles, stationery and
fancy-book-goods than before, but I came away feeling heartened and
hopeful as well as slightly disappointed that I won’t be in town for next weekend’s
Official Bookshop Opening.
So,
many apologies to all involved! All I can say now, here on Awfully Big Blog Adventure, is “Well
done, Mr Daunt!” and hooray for all the staff that have been struggling through the renovations. I’m sorry for being so cross and judgemental a few
weeks ago, dear Waterstones, so here’s wishing the shop - and that new café - much success and many,
many book-sales!
Oh well. Sigh. So much for
taking a stand. So much for boldly going blogging . . .
Maybe I should just go back
to never deciding about anything ever again?
Maybe I should keep my
mouth shut over on The Cranky Laptop Writes?
But, as a writer, silence
can be difficult.
And there
is the matter of those independent cafes . . .
