Crammed thoughts on a bookshop

Usually when settling down to write a bookshop blog I'll take a little time to think about my visit before I start typing, but there are so many different random thoughts crammed into my head in relation to this week's destination that instead I'm winging it. The words will appear however they land and hopefully something will make sense between now and whenever I finish writing.

Which is rather appropriate, because this week I'm writing about the most crammed bookshop I have ever visited, and if you take a look at the index of this blog you'll know I've visited more than a few.

Hurlingham Books is a relatively small secondhand bookshop found on a slightly out of the way road in Fulham. It's one of many of what I think of as my early blog years bookshops, places I first heard of back in 2013 but struggled to manage to visit. Instead I'd looked it up on maps, visited its website, seen it on social media, and read countless random comments by people who had visited both it and its nearby book warehouse. Having been on countless bookshop crawls around London, I almost got there a few times but could never quite make it work with geography or the navigation of buses and trains.

Which is a roundabout way of saying this was a bookshop that had been on my mind a lot over the last decade plus.

I'm therefore rather ashamed to admit the bookshop hadn't even crossed my mind when eventually, in early 2025, I found myself spending two nights in a cheap hotel in Fulham. I was only there because The Boy bribed me to join him at a concert by promising me we wouldn't have to get the last train home from London; we would get to take part in Fulham Palace parkrun; and we'd be staying near Putney Bridge (bridges are fascinating). The fact he didn't attempt to bribe me with a bookshop and I didn't remember such a memorable one on my must-visit list is incomprehensible. But there we are.

Fortunately, us accidentally turning the wrong way out of Putney Bridge tube station meant we quickly found ourselves walking past a short row of windows filled with the spines of books. We only had small suitcases but it was the perfect opportunity to stop and stare, fascinated by the display in front of us.

At this time, I was so busy staring at the books I didn't notice the small lightbox to the right of one window, all I saw was the sign above, for 91 Fulham High Street. I had no clue what we were looking at but vowed we would be returning the next morning to take a look inside this bookshop with no name. Yes, I know the sign's pretty obvious in the photo, but I was tired at the end of our journey, keen to check into our hotel (I can't be the only one who won't believe they've booked their hotel until they're actually in the room?) and – knowing me – I was probably also distracted by the need to find dinner.

We headed off, confirmed we really had got a hotel to stay in (barely two minutes' walk from the bookshop) and found somewhere to eat in a nearby pub (almost next door to the bookshop). In case you're not getting it, our entire stay in Fulham ended up being confined to a very small area and we loved it. Why venture further if you're after a short break and are lucky enough to be staying in just the right spot?

The next day we returned to find the front door open and I finally spotted the name "Hurlingham Books" in the window, the penny dropped and I remembered all those years of bookshop longing. I couldn't believe I was finally here and I couldn't wait to step inside.

As you can see, stepping inside is pretty restricted. This is a very full bookshop. I've seen piles of floor to ceiling books before, but Hurlingham really does bear no comparison to the next fullest bookshop I can think of. The above picture is the view from the doorstep, and while it may look spacious, it was only just possible for the two of us to pass each other once we were in. Which made things all the more interesting when you take into account the other customer and allow space for the bookseller, who could be found almost at the end of what is best described as a swirl of footpath between the books. Even that's misleading, the whole walkway can't have been more than four metres in length and I'm wary I could be over-exaggerating.

The bookshop itself is probably standard-sized for a small shop space. The volume of books it contains means walk space is probably even less that that of the smallest bookshop I've ever visited. And yet not once did I feel hemmed in or overwhelmed, such was the treasure trove on offer. Somehow despite the fullness of the bookshop titles kept grabbing my attention.

It was in this way that I spotted my purchase, which was also the very first title I saw when I stood on that above bit of floor and turned to my right. There at exactly head height (for me) was The Quincunx by Charles Palliser. Yes, it is a big book so it did have more chance than most of standing out, but it's also got a dark spine and the gold of the lettering can appear quite dark depending on the angle of light – I know this because I often miss it on my bookshelf when looking for my next read. See Exhibit A (which is admittedly a little staged):

I was excited to spot the book because it had been on my must-buy list since a rather random Teams call I had with a distant bookish contact during the pandemic. I'd enjoyed the chat about work and I'd been fascinated by the recommendation, so the memory stuck with me until such time as I could stumble across it (I try not to order books if I can help it, this blog means I'll eventually find what I'm looking for and I've learned to be patient). The fact the book keeps hiding in plain sight on my bookcase means I've still not read it, but ownership is a good start and for £3 it's not an expensive delay. Having now taken it from the shelf to photograph, I'm leaving it on the dining table ready to catch my attention next time I need a new start.

But back to the bookshop. Finding my purchase so quickly left me at leisure to explore the rest of the stock, which feels like it includes everything you could possibly imagine. Fiction was extensively varied, non-fiction appeared to cover all the usual topics and more, and at the very end of my short, enclosed walk I found a wonderful collection of slightly old science fiction. Had I not been travelling by train and already chosen a book larger than a brick, a few of those would definitely have been added to my suitcase.

There being another customer who chose the same time as me to want to pay, I didn't spend long chatting to the bookseller and I didn't have time to ask about visiting the legendary book warehouse that's apparently located just 10 minutes away. This could be considered yet another oversight on my part, I see it as an excuse to return.

Hurlingham Books
91 Fulham High Street, London, England, SW6 3JS

Perfect timing

Earlier this year we took a holiday to the south west of England. We travelled by train, stopping at three different destinations for a few days each. I've become a big fan of travelling by train, around both Britain and Europe. It's significantly less tiring than driving, less stressful than airport security, more environmentally friendly than either of those options and frees up lots of time to enjoy the view or – my personal favourite – read.

The joy of train travel means the only weight limit is what you can carry, which means that by the time we arrived at our third and final stop I knew exactly how much room I had in my suitcase for more books. Sadly the answer was one. Fortunately, Exeter's independent bookshop ensured my purchase was a good one.

We visited Bookbag towards the end of a hot Saturday afternoon (so a standard day in 2026). Tired after a later night than anticipated in a micropub combined with a faster morning than anticipated at parkrun, we got a little lost as we walked around Exeter city centre before eventually focusing our attention to find McCoy's Arcade.

[Much to my horror, I arrived home to discover I'd only taken a photo of the front of the arcade, not the bookshop itself. So while looking at this please imagine a series of big windows inside an arcade giving a view into a smart bookshop]

Bookbag is hidden away down this small, cool, shopping arcade a very short walk from the main shopping area. The whole arcade is interesting and I found myself wishing it was busier and hoping all the businesses achieve the footfall they deserve, while also accepting that most sane people would've left the hot shopping area some time earlier.

The benefit of our bad timing was that we got the bookshop mostly to ourselves. I politely swapped places around the recommendations table with two young women, while The Boy enjoyed exploring the non-fiction. It's a smallish bookshop that's long and narrow so this worked well for all of us, giving me the space to browse the recommendations table that almost filled the width of the shop while also enjoying other people's enjoyment of the books. Admit it, we all love listening into book conversations, and if it's in a bookshop the only proper thing to do is take note and see if any of the titles mentioned catch your fancy.

I really liked the mix of titles on offer, with classics interspersed between best sellers to give maximum variety to browsers. I was also taken by the nature section. Where space is limited, independent bookshops have to choose stock carefully and I felt this area of the non-fiction particularly stood out.

When it came to my purchase, there were a few recently published books that caught my eye, but as regular readers will know I'm a fan of science fiction, and one of my weaknesses is older sci fi, particularly from the 1950s. Sure the language is dated and society was rather limited for women (the books are very much of their day), but there's something about books from that period (science fiction or otherwise) that feels like a cosy, reassuring blanket. Even when the subject matter is a large black cloud that's about to separate the Earth from the Sun, plunging us all into freezing temperatures (a thought that's actually a little appealing as I type this on a swelteringly hot day).

Which all leads me on to saying I was very pleased to find a new-to-me author in the form of Fred Hoyle and his 1957 book The Black Cloud. The Boy very gently gave me a history lesson about the famous scientist when we left the shop. I don't review books, but while I'm on the subject it was a mostly very well-written and thoroughly enjoyable read. If you like dystopian fiction that's a little uplifting (not a spoiler) and combines occasional real maths and science (the parts I struggled with but was glad they were there), I definitely recommend giving this a go.

I digress but hopefully you'll forgive me when I tell you my chatter with the bookseller also mostly revolved around my purchase and how the book had only just arrived in the bookshop following a recent recommendation to her. It made my choice all the more satisfying to know I'd have missed the book if we'd been more organised and visited the day before. Sometimes timing – of publication and of visit – is everything.

Bookbag
7-10 McCoy's Arcade, Fore Street, Exeter, EX4 3AN

The little pause during a long journey

This blog took a bit of a hiatus for a few years, my visits to bookshops did not. So now I'm here to tell you about a bookshop visit from June 2024 (during Independent Bookshop Week). Time has passed, but research tells me my experience is largely still relevant today. In we go...

Most of the bookshops on this blog appear because I've planned for them. I've heard a name, had a recommendation, or perhaps had an idea I want to visit an area so I'll look up all the nearby bookshops and choose my destination for maximum bookshop visiting opportunity. Other times I'll be planning a break on a journey, looking for a moment of calm and to avoid dreaded service stations.

Then there are the occasions when we're on a long journey and I decide enough is enough and stop at the first village I can find after turning off the motorway. In this case that village was Cookham, slightly north of Maidenhead, and we were on our way home to Kent after a short break in Cheltenham, which we'd somehow ended up at after a holiday in Bakewell. I can't remember the details of how we got to be zigzagging across the country, what I can remember is my delight at realising my bookshop homing instinct had kicked in and brought us to an appropriately served village.

I can still see us in the car as we made our way into Cookham. As we turned onto the High Street, The Boy got all excitable because he'd spotted an art gallery dedicated to one of his favourite artists, then a few moments later I spotted the bookshop, and all thought of lunch went out the window as we crawled along the road in search of a parking space.

The Boy rushed back to check the opening hours of the Stanley Spencer Gallery while I made my way into The little bookshop. He soon returned, satisfied we had time to visit both and eat lunch somewhere, and so our bookshop exploring began.

First off, it really is a little bookshop. The pale blue front door opens into a space that could easily have been a cosy living room, with a white ceiling interspersed with large black beams. The small space still felt light and airy thanks to the front window and carefully placed spotlights, so there was no danger of feeling claustrophobic. 

As you'd expect, I was immediately drawn to the wall of fiction to one side just through the door. I was so busy enjoying it I appear to have forgotten to take a photo, so instead here's the other side of the room, showing some of the recommendations tables and the children's books.

After a short while, I turned around to discover The Boy was nowhere to be seen, which at first glance is an impressive achievement in a little bookshop. Then I realised he'd headed upstairs to the non-fiction area, where he'd made himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

Both of the bookshop's two rooms are nicely appointed and very nicely stocked. Had there not been a nearby gallery to go to, I reckon The Boy could've happily sat there all afternoon – instead he did the right thing and bought the book in his hands. It was Fancy Bear Goes Phishing by Scott J Shapiro, and he tells me it was an excellent read.

Meanwhile I'd enjoyed loitering at the fiction. I remember a particular shelf of books was at the perfect height for me to browse, making it both easier to see titles I was interested in and harder to choose just the one book for my purchase. Eventually I selected Violeta by Isabel Allende, an author I'd read a lot in my 20s then somehow drifted away from as the years passed.

Books bought, we headed off to the gallery for an enjoyable look around, before finally remembering the reason for our visit: lunch.

Delightful diversions such as this are what make long, dull journeys easier to bear. These days we try to travel more by train, but next time we find ourselves driving near Cookham – and I'm sure there'll be one – we will definitely pausing for books, art and a bite to eat.

The little bookshop
16 High Street, Cookham, Berkshire, SL6 9SJ

Finally meeting Beverley

A day out with family in late May took us to a town and a bookshop I've long wanted to visit. As you would expect, it was both worth the wait and made me wonder why on earth we haven't been to this market town sooner.

Located around half an hour north of Hull, during our semi-regular visits to the city we've often said we'd like to visit Beverley. Initially because we childishly liked that it's got a human name, then because the more we heard of the place, the more interesting it sounded.

We arrived on an exceptionally* sunny Sunday and began with an exploration of some of the landmarks before having a wander along the high street to find a physically cool cafe for some delicious vegetarian lunches. Next came ice creams and a mooch around the market before we headed to the main event: The Beverley Bookshop.

I'll admit the five of us were a little tired by the time we finally made our way there, but as you would expect I soon perked up when I saw the beautiful display of books on offer.

From the front door, you enter a bright and modern space with tables of recommendations stood to attention as if ready to greet you. These are surrounded by shelves of fiction – including my favourites of science fiction and the classics – with one bookcase particularly catching my eye: fiction in translation.

There's something about translated books that always grabs my attention. I'm not sure if it's the slightly different outlook of reading about ideas and experiences from another part of the world; or maybe it's the often similar outlook despite the many thousands of miles between us; or perhaps it's that smaller bookshops don't always have the space to dedicate a whole bookshop to international authors. Whatever the reason, I often find myself drawn to such shelves whenever I stumble across them, and the particular appeal of this translation bookcase was that it was full but not overwhelming: when you have no idea about any of the authors or titles on display, having limited options is definitely a good thing.

Anyway, I've devoted a lot of this blog to that one bookcase because of how fascinated I was at the time. It's also where I eventually, inevitably, selected my purchase: The cafe with no name by Robert Seethaler. In case you're wondering, I also read the book almost immediately after purchase. It falls into the "similar outlook despite the miles" category and was exactly the calm escape I needed at the time.

Moving on, the ground floor also includes the till – where the bookseller was being kept very busy with customers – and a sweet children's area. To one side a staircase took us up to the non-fiction section, which was smaller but still nicely stocked. I particularly liked their coverage of nature-themed topics.

I didn't chat long with the bookseller because of how busy they were, but during our brief exchange I could sense their enthusiasm for this family-owned bookshop which has been around for many years (I think they said around 30, it was too hot to remember everything).

Then it was time to move on to find somewhere to sit for a cooling drink before exploring a few more independent shops on our way home.

We had an enjoyable day exploring the town and I'm sure we'll be adding The Beverley Bookshop to our regular destinations list during future visits to the Hull branch of our family.

The Beverley Bookshop

19 Butchery Row, Beverley, East Yorkshire, HU17 0AA

*Back then it really did feel like the May heatwave was unusual, how little did we know it was simply the start of a series of waves for 2026.

Memories of the past, joy for the present

There are certain places that get into your soul, sticking with you no matter how many years you leave between visits. For me, Rochester is one of those places.

I moved there more than a quarter of a century ago (surely I'm not old enough for that statement to be possible?) when I left another town that's also firmly lodged in my heart, so I could climb the next rung of the career ladder. The career has since changed significantly, my love of both of those previous homes continues, possibly in part because of their similarities.

Aberystwyth had gorgeous sunsets over a wide expanse of sea, and an independent new bookshop that swallowed up most of my spare cash. Rochester had gorgeous sunsets over a wide expanse of tidal river, and no independent new bookshop*. I was happy with where I lived but having come to appreciate chats in independent bookshops, I'll admit I was a little lonely when I first arrived in Kent: the beautiful surroundings and my love of books were my main company for some time.

Thankfully, some things change and six years ago – yes, during the pandemic – Store 104 opened on Rochester High Street.

It's an unusual destination in that it describes itself as "an independent, family-run, book, yarn and gift shop". I'll admit, anywhere that puts the word "gift" in its descriptor usually sends me running, but I only looked at the website after my visit, by which time I'd already fallen for the place thanks to its fascinating selection of books and rather sweet cafe (which doesn't even get a mention online, it's a well-kept secret).

My visit to Store 104 was planned so I could meet up with someone in the cafe, so I made sure to arrive half an hour early to give me time to properly look around.

From the door, your first glance is of a large selection of greeting cards to the right, or a small bookcase of gifts that appeared to be mainly notebooks on the left, however immediately beyond is a view of dark wooden bookcases and lots of novels to choose from. A large, wooden staircase takes people upstairs to the yarn, which looked beautiful but is beyond my knowledge base. Instead I continued deeper into the shop, to the non-fiction and then to scout out the cafe for later.

Returning to the novels, I set about choosing my purchase. During my first walk through I'd spotted some Persephones – including one I've been looking out for by Winifred Watson – so I had thought I'd found my book without much effort, but when it came to properly looking I realised the shelves deserved more attention.

The space available for fiction may cover fewer than four bookcases, but the quality on offer is excellent. Many face-forward books were so interesting I could've been convinced they'd been displayed that way just for me, and when I looked along the spines there were even more options that I'd not previously encountered but quickly found myself wanting to read. The Persephone ended up back on my to buy list and I had to choose something else. That something was Air by Christian Kracht.

Later, when my purchase was sat on the table in the cafe, one of the staff got talking to me about another book by the author. I had to confess I'd not previously heard of them, and I enjoyed the praise and brief moment of conversation.

Which leads me nicely to the cafe. I was meeting someone to discuss potential work now I'm in the world of freelance editing. I won't go into the details of the conversation, what I can tell you is that we both had triple cheese toasties and cups of tea, later moving on to more tea and the almond and cherry tray bake. It was all delicious. Top marks are granted for making a simple toastie exceptionally tasty.

[I forgot to take any photos of the food, so a big thank you to reader Helen Drafter who popped in for lunch a few days after this post went live.]

It should be noted the menu is limited. That toastie (with optional extra sauces) really was the only savoury option available during my visit this Monday, however there were lots of baked goods and an extensive selection of coffees and unusual cold drinks. 

What was most important was the space. I was in there for almost two hours so as well as personally feeling comfortable, I was able to witness the comings and goings of others. This ranged from noisy groups of friends to quiet readers, including smatterings of conversations with staff and other customers occasionally breaking out around the room. How I wished I'd found a space like this all those years ago.

When I started writing about this week's bookshop I really hadn't expected it to bring up so many memories of my lonely first years in the town so I hope you'll forgive the self-indulgence. Those years may have been difficult, but without them I wouldn't have fallen in love with this historic corner of England and – more importantly – I wouldn't have eventually come to meet many of the people who ensure Rochester will be forever in my heart. 

I couldn't benefit from Store 104 all those years ago, but I love knowing that if a lonely young Erica arrived in Rochester today she would swiftly be able to find a place within the community.

Store 104

104 High Street,

Rochester,

Kent,

ME1 1JT

*At the time there were two secondhand bookshops in Rochester, and I mean them no disrespect with this statement. I've even written about how much I loved one of them, here, which means I should also draw your attention to my favourite secondhand bookshop in Aberystwyth. (Please excuse typos and broken links if you click through to those blogs, I've opted to leave the past as I wrote it, accepting all mistakes as being of their day.)

There's something special on Silver Street

When I re-started this blog I promised I'd share bookshop adventures new and old, so here's a visit from 2019, to a bookshop that makes the word "thrive" sound like an understatement.

One of the most common questions I'm asked when on my bookshopping adventures is along the lines of "where is your bookshop?" or "when will you be opening your own bookshop?" and my answer is always the same: I'm a bookshopper, not a bookseller.

I love bookshops and admit I share the dream of having a bookshop of my own, a bookshop filled with books, sunlight, tea, and the community spirit generated by a mass of friendly customers. The dream is perfect. The reality is something a little less idyllic as it involves all of the above and a lot of hard work. It also requires that certain something – what I definitely think of as a secret ingredient. 

There's no way to describe that something, it's not a secret booksellers are keeping from us, but – now I'm aware of it – I realise it's there in every successful independent bookshop I've ever met. The first time I realised there was such a mysterious secret ingredient was when I visited Drake the Bookshop in fledgling form, sometime around its seven monthiversary.

At the time Drake was located in a corner space of part of a sort of upmarket indoor market. The bookshop lacked two walls a door and the all-important bookshop window, but even without those things it was clear to see something special had been created. I didn't know Drake would go on to become a success, but what was written all over the bookshop space was that here is a bookshop that cares about its customers AND knows how to make sure they know it. Richard and Mel knew how to balance fun with books and business (as I've previously mentioned, we've all got to eat), and their determination to serve the readers of Stockton was – and still is – there for all to see.

Fast forward four years and, in 2019, I returned to Stockton to see how things had changed. Drake the bookshop had moved and become a 'proper' bookshop with windows and a door (who am I kidding, it was *always* a proper bookshop, it had simply expanded into a more traditional physical space). The bookshop had (I'd guess) at least three times the space of its original unit and as a result the variety and volume of stock significantly increased. I write in the past tense, because since that visit I hear they've expanded again.

During that visit in 2019 and so I assume today, there was a lovely seating area that could accommodate any number of popular reading and literary groups (I lost track of all the options but having been following their progress online, I really, really want to join in their silent book club, or any silent book club – please take that as a hint local-to-me cafes and pubs).

Back in 2016, Drake had just arranged its first author event. At the time of my last visit the bookshop was in the final throes of arranging another ambitious author road trip, affectionately known as GNAT. Jump to 2026 and I see that a few days ago the latest Great Northern Author Tour (yes, GNAT) took place, and having read their write-up of the day I'm pleased to see the event – like the bookshop – has gone from strength to strength. 

These are some of the changes over the years but other things I've experienced at Drake remain the same: a carefully chosen selection of books; a warm welcome for every visitor (including for one young family that was simply passing by in the street, the enthusiasm of Drake is definitely not contained within its four walls); and a reassuring confidence in all things bookshop. This confidence was best demonstrated in conversation with Richard and Mel, when I paused from my browsing to catch up on book and bookshop news and Richard handed me Leonard and Hungry Paul by Ronan Hession, saying "read this". I love it when people make recommendations so the book became my purchase of the visit and later turned out to be exactly the book I needed to read – it recently also became exactly the TV adaptation I needed to watch. I love it when adaptations do justice to the original, but please do read the book first.

During the 2019 visit we also bought No one is too small to make a difference, by Greta Thunberg; Out of the Wreckage, A new politics for an age of crisis, by George Monbiot; How to be invisible, by Kate Bush; and Memoirs of a book thief by A Tota and P Van Hove. I say we, the majority of these were actually chosen by The Boy, who clearly enjoyed browsing while I caught up.

We travelled around 300 miles to visit Drake the Bookshop, which is why it's been a few years since our previous visit but we also know we will be back. The people of Stockton need only walk down the street to get there, I hope they know how lucky they are. 

Drake the Bookshop
26-27 Silver Street,
Stockton-on-Tees,
TS18 1SX

Discovering a bookshop around the corner

There's something particularly magical about going out for a day trip to achieve one thing, then innocently discovering there's a bookshop around the corner.

Which is exactly what happened a couple of weeks ago, when we paid a first visit to a relative who had recently relocated to Wendover. Prior to the conversation about moving I had a vague idea the town might be somewhere in the middle of the country, maybe a little rural, but I was otherwise ignorant. I can now tell you it appears to be a friendly, pretty, small town in the Chilterns, somewhere near Aylesbury. 

If I've got that wrong, please understand it's because our visit was limited to exploring the new home, lunch out, and an unexpected stop in Real Magic Books. While it was lovely to visit a family member, clearly my main memory of the day is the bookshop. Yes, I do have a one-track mind.

We first saw the bookshop as we really did turn a corner. There it was in a small parade of shops on our left as we walked past, stomachs growling as we headed to lunch. Despite the large front window, I was unable to see much inside and I filed the memory as "if we have time, it would be nice to pop in on our way home".

During that walk to lunch I was still only toying with the idea of re-starting this blog, and knowing we'd be visiting again meant I really wasn't too serious about delaying us to buy books. I look back at that slightly younger me in horror: Why on earth would I have not gone into a bookshop?

Thankfully, curiosity got the better of me. We had a pleasant lunch and as we began our walk back I casually dropped in: "could we just pop in here for five minutes". Reader, we were longer than five minutes.

Within seconds of stepping inside I was absorbed in a table dedicated to Rough Trade Books. From his spot on the sofa, the bookseller told me the book in my hand related to an event taking place in the bookshop the following evening when two authors were coming along – one with their band. I briefly toyed with attempting to extend our visit from a couple of hours to a couple of days, before confessing to the bookseller we were only there for the afternoon. Next time I may have to make plans that coincide with a bookshop event, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Real Magic Books is a bright and airy space which somehow felt larger than its big window had implied from outside. Big fans were wafting air around, and test match cricket on the radio meant relaxed chatter seemed to bubble around the shop. Immediately in front of you from the door are two round tables of themed books – at this time one was for Rough Trade, the other for Pride. These lead you on to a huge rectangular table of recommendations that are thoughtfully chosen for their content while also looking beautiful to this browser.

On the right, a wall of books with their covers face-forward provides literal and metaphorical colour, capturing your attention as you dart around a range of fiction and non-fiction titles. On the left, I was drawn to an enjoyable selection of fiction and then non-fiction crammed into more regularly displayed bookcases. There's also a welcoming children's section tucked away to one side.

Sticking to my one book per bookshop rule, I'd been clinging onto that very first title I picked up, On the bus without a phone by Babak Ganjei, but the last bookcase I came to, the nature shelves on the end next to the till, made me break my resolve and somehow Living on Earth by Peter Godfrey-Smith also ended up coming home with me.

While making my purchase I chatted some more with the bookseller, who was "only" looking after the bookshop for his friend but still did an excellent job telling me about the place and making us all feel at home.

Real Magic Books is a very welcome unexpected discovery and doubles my reasons for now wanting to return to Wendover as often as possible. Its stock is intelligent and unusual, its space is bright and welcoming and – sadly not open on that random Wednesday afternoon in June – upstairs it's home to Real Magic Records, which I suspect will provide a third reason for me wanting to return.

Real Magic Books
2 Kings Head Parade, High Street, Wendover, Aylesbury, HP22 6DX