Odhu/ntinggo

I certainly had good hunting this morning. For once, I actually found what I am always looking for: girls' books. I bought several in one go, all from the 1920s and 1930s, all inscribed to one person from the same friend or relative. Four of them have very scarce dustwrappers and as one is by Winifred Darch you can bet I'm pleased. One had a lovely old Timothy Whites Library bookmark inside, for my collection of 'Things I have found in Books'. The seller is rather a pet of mine but he's tricky: you have to persuade him to sell you the goods and bully him on the lines of 'Have you got any more? What's that one under there/in the back of the car?' I wouldn't be at all surprised if he has plenty more at home. Blood and stones come to mind.

I bought more old books from another seller, plus, the nurseryman with his one-pound-plants in big pots was there again, so I got some more perennials from him. Then home to wrap parcels, off to post them, then to a small boot sale being held in a school playground. A nice friendly occasion and I got some stuff but nothing exciting. All this time the sky was getting darker and darker (what a contrast to yesterday!) so I determined to get the new plants in asap. This I did and by lunchtime it was raining, though not enough to do any good.

Cataloguing the new books later, I found that my pet hate, the Oxfam bookshop in Blandford, is asking £20.00 for the same edition of Queechy that I bought this morning for 50p. They'll be lucky.