Dear Diary, I am so relaxed, so at peace with the world. It's wonderful what a break away from the daily routine does.
The morning dawned dank and dark. For a moment I hauled the blankets over my head in an unsuccessful effort to pretend the sun was shining. Thinking I was acting like a spoilt child I bounced out, padded to the bathroom, dressed and tidied my room. With all my clothes stored in the drawers, the curtains pulled allowing a watery sun to shine through, the day did hold promise.
After breakfast Anne and I debated our programme. Should we sit at home and, in between chattering, read and play a game of Monopoly, or should we don our water-proof jackets and check out the shops, perhaps indulge in lunch at a restaurant well known for its seafood. The choice was not difficult! By mid morning we stood in the centre of the small town, wondering which direction to explore first. Anne, having lived in Beachtown many years, and having once owned a small bookshop cum tearooms, knew what was what.
Curious to know what Anne's business looked like, I suggested we wander there. Bookshops have always attracted my attention and it is so easy to spend long periods browsing before making a choice of a title, or titles, to read. The bookshop, now renamed "Books and Teas" sat snugly between two modern buildings, drawing attention to the bookshop which was elderly, small, and occupied a space little larger than an alleyway. We checked our watches ... time for tea! The bell jingled as we opened the door, the smell of books assailed our nostrils with an underlying aroma of tea and hot scones. I looked at Anne ... this was my type of place, and I found it difficult to comprehend why she had sold such a lovely little shop. Finding a table after placing our order, I enquired, "Anne, why did you sell this gem?"
Anne smiled, shook her head slightly and replied, "I had the utmost difficulty finding good staff. It was too much for just one, and staff that couldn't be relied upon to turn up on their shift, or arrived an hour late with no real excuse, proved to be insurmountable. I became tired; the task of baking, the challenge of buying books when reading fads change almost daily, combined to make the enterprise unworkable for me. I believe the present owner has her sister come in three days a week, for the busy mornings, which gives them both time to enjoy the business. I do not regret selling ... at my time of life the rigour of working long hours is not missed."
At this stage the Devonshire teas arrived; Anne played Mother and poured the tea from a brown teapot that held not tea for two, but tea for two with seconds. Lovely Dear Diary!
Later we moved around the book shelves. This little shop held an Aladdin's Cave of reading material; children's story books, books for babies to take to the bath, Vampire books for teenagers, and an extensive collection of reference books such as horticulture, crafts covering everything from origami to quilt making, history tomes, books on outer space, and a wonderful corner that sold second hand comics, some of which I recognised from my childhood. I chose a cryptic crossword book, for an idle moment, while Anne deciding she needed to reacquaint herself with crochet picked a delightful pattern book that concentrated on dressing table mats.
Our next stop was the wool shop, and while I browsed I managed to rein my spending instincts in only spending a few dollars on three balls of baby wool, though who I intend knitting for remains unknown. Anne assured me she has a book of matinee jackets. Dear Diary, can you see us in the evening, sitting in our armchairs; one knitting a baby jacket, the other crocheting a mat for a dressing table? Bliss!
The morning dawned dank and dark. For a moment I hauled the blankets over my head in an unsuccessful effort to pretend the sun was shining. Thinking I was acting like a spoilt child I bounced out, padded to the bathroom, dressed and tidied my room. With all my clothes stored in the drawers, the curtains pulled allowing a watery sun to shine through, the day did hold promise.
After breakfast Anne and I debated our programme. Should we sit at home and, in between chattering, read and play a game of Monopoly, or should we don our water-proof jackets and check out the shops, perhaps indulge in lunch at a restaurant well known for its seafood. The choice was not difficult! By mid morning we stood in the centre of the small town, wondering which direction to explore first. Anne, having lived in Beachtown many years, and having once owned a small bookshop cum tearooms, knew what was what.
Curious to know what Anne's business looked like, I suggested we wander there. Bookshops have always attracted my attention and it is so easy to spend long periods browsing before making a choice of a title, or titles, to read. The bookshop, now renamed "Books and Teas" sat snugly between two modern buildings, drawing attention to the bookshop which was elderly, small, and occupied a space little larger than an alleyway. We checked our watches ... time for tea! The bell jingled as we opened the door, the smell of books assailed our nostrils with an underlying aroma of tea and hot scones. I looked at Anne ... this was my type of place, and I found it difficult to comprehend why she had sold such a lovely little shop. Finding a table after placing our order, I enquired, "Anne, why did you sell this gem?"
Anne smiled, shook her head slightly and replied, "I had the utmost difficulty finding good staff. It was too much for just one, and staff that couldn't be relied upon to turn up on their shift, or arrived an hour late with no real excuse, proved to be insurmountable. I became tired; the task of baking, the challenge of buying books when reading fads change almost daily, combined to make the enterprise unworkable for me. I believe the present owner has her sister come in three days a week, for the busy mornings, which gives them both time to enjoy the business. I do not regret selling ... at my time of life the rigour of working long hours is not missed."
At this stage the Devonshire teas arrived; Anne played Mother and poured the tea from a brown teapot that held not tea for two, but tea for two with seconds. Lovely Dear Diary!
Later we moved around the book shelves. This little shop held an Aladdin's Cave of reading material; children's story books, books for babies to take to the bath, Vampire books for teenagers, and an extensive collection of reference books such as horticulture, crafts covering everything from origami to quilt making, history tomes, books on outer space, and a wonderful corner that sold second hand comics, some of which I recognised from my childhood. I chose a cryptic crossword book, for an idle moment, while Anne deciding she needed to reacquaint herself with crochet picked a delightful pattern book that concentrated on dressing table mats.
Our next stop was the wool shop, and while I browsed I managed to rein my spending instincts in only spending a few dollars on three balls of baby wool, though who I intend knitting for remains unknown. Anne assured me she has a book of matinee jackets. Dear Diary, can you see us in the evening, sitting in our armchairs; one knitting a baby jacket, the other crocheting a mat for a dressing table? Bliss!
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