The battle to save an Aladdin's cave of books
I can easily imagine our teenage hero taking shelter on a stormy afternoon and, while browsing the shelves of ageing novels and weighty old tomes, finding something unexpected...
I even have in mind a book worthy of their attention. How about a coal-black hardback, embossed with gold script. And on the cover the staring horned head of something far from human.
If I'm being pretty specific it's because I found that very title on a dreary day a few years ago in the often-visited, always rewarding "ghosts and witchcraft" section.
The very fact that there's a room on the second floor where this alcove exists might explain why there's a special place in my heart for this second-hand shop.
And why I'm so sad there's a chance that, come the end of the month, the doors could close for good. That is unless the team of volunteers can scrape together the £30,000 they need to save it.
Unfortunately some of the features that give the ageing place its Sunday serial charm - a slightly crooked stairway, arthritic floorboards and windows that grind up to open - have also put it at risk.
Paying for repairs to a listed building, which dates back to the days of coach and horses and candlelight, is no easy task for a small charity in a cost of living crisis.
When I found out about the proposed closure my heart sank. I've been visiting for almost a decade and for me it's one of those places - we all have, I suspect, a couple - where you can escape the world for a while.
When I did an office job I hated it was something to save for a Saturday. When Covid came and everything closed it was a future trip to keep hold of on the rungs of the ladder from lockdown.
Why this place? Well when it comes to reading I suppose I'm a bit of a traditionalist. There's a pleasing weight to a book on a bed cover that you don't get from a Kindle. Pages might crinkle or fade but they never empty of words altogether. Chapters can end without warning. Stories can end and be left to linger rather than asking for feedback.
And then there's the smell of a physical copy of course. Rather like the classroom when new, like the cloakroom - or possibly some dank corner of the cellar - when they've seen a year or two pass.
I confess I've still switched to e-books for a lot of fiction. In part because my shelf-space is increasingly squeezed and in part because our planet is warming and surrendering some of the little pleasures is part of the price to do something about that.
I like Books Revisited because it allows me to pick up the odd thing second-hand, which feels more manageable for both the Earth's eco-systems and my two Ikea units.
As I glance over to the bookcase from where I'm writing this post I can spot some of my favourite finds.
Apart from the aforementioned and frankly awesome Folklore, Myths and Legends of Britain, there's the lime-green spine of Crops in Pots, the fraught edge of an old Oliver Twist and Poldark's name glinting in the light - almost like something fetched up from one of the Cornishman's mines.
In other corners of my bedroom you might find a jigsaw of a village green, a copy of Pulp's Different Class and a rather nice print of a Midlands Red Bus. But it's the books I keep going back for.
I do hope the shop stays open and that other titles which once had other owners continue to be added to my shelves.
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