My favourite second-hand bookshop closed for good a few Saturdays back.

Over the years I must’ve bought hundreds of books from them, spanning all kinds of categories. Of course in recent years it has been almost exclusively gardening books and they had a good selection.

I went along, to kind of mentally say goodbye as it where. I didn’t take Little Boots as the protests of “This place is boring” got increasingly loud over the last few visits.

At £1 for hardbacks and 50p for paperbacks, there were bargains a plenty, but my heart wasn’t in it. I bought a fiver’s worth but felt like a graverobber and have only just opened the bag to look at my purchases.

They are:

Over the Hills – W. Keble Martin’s autobiography

Shrubs for amateurs – W.J. Bean

More Green Fingers – Reginald Arkell humourous garden-based poetry – or at least what passed for humour in the 1930s.

Flowers Shown To The Children – Janet Harvey Kelman – a book about British natives from the 20s/30s, with coloured plates, intended to help kids identify flora 

Trees & Woodland in the British Landscape – Oliver Rackham

All are interesting books and not ones that are necessarily easily picked up. Of course you can buy many books on the ‘net, but unless you know what you are after, it is very much a case of buying them blind. There is no browsing, unlike a real bookshop where you can actually have a look at the things.

So, I reckon, not only has a little part of my personal history passed on, but my life in a small, but tangible, way has become slightly poorer.