The White Horse Bookshop

I had planned to return with News, but this is far too wonderful to let it go by.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the refurbishment of our lovely independent bookshop. Well, last Saturday was the official reopening.

I don't know about your town - but ours can do 'stuffy' when it comes to celebrations. We call them respectable, of course, but often they're stuffy. Sparkling wine in sparkling glasses. Canapés. Men and women greet each other with air-kisses and agree that this is wonderful darling. Maybe a local worthy to do the opening honours. Such celebrations have their place, of course - but sometimes I think my town needs a bit of a kick up the bum.

And then came the reopening of the White Horse Bookshop. With Jacqueline Wilson. Whose fab idea was it to invite her? For the great and the good of the town were shoved to the margins as the shop filled with children. You could barely hear yourself speak above the hubbub of children's voices - subdued briefly when she walked by them and then resuming forte proportions once she'd gone by.

The official ribbon-cutting done, she sat on a low sofa - low enough to look children in the eye and talk with them. A queue (of sorts) snaked through the shop - she had time and a smile for them all.

Oh how truly wonderful. Nobody could move in the shop for children, and parents, and grandparents. For what can be more important than bringing books and children together?

(Far more important than my News, anyway!!)

Today I shall buy books!!

Today I shall buy books.

Not such as a surprise, surely?

But our lovely independent bookshop has been closed for three weeks. The owner retired, though he hung on for long enough to make sure it was taken over by someone who would keep it as a bookshop. So it closed, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and bitten nails as we wait for the-look shop. A skip appeared outside, and four men and one woman lugged stuff out and threw it away. Then lorries arrived, and four men and one woman lugged more stuff in.

Everyday people would peer through the doorway - watching the far end of the shop was opened up; as ceiling and walls were painted; as shelves filled, as if by magic, with books.

And today a woman who works there waved me in, so I could have a quick look. Oh how wonderful it is. Lighter, brighter, and extended to give more shelf-space. Still a place for children to sit on the floor and read. And that lovely smell of new paper.

What's more, it's still independent. No profits disappearing into corporate coffers. A local independent bookshop to respond to local reading needs. They'll still do good deals for local book groups (they give a 10% discount off our book group books); they'll still find anything, order anything; and get to know their customers by name.

So - what am I doing today? I'm off to the White Horse Bookshop, in Marlborough High Street.

I might be a little while.