Up above my head, I see trouble in the air

 

'Leave me alone. I'm reading!'

Do you know where the expression 'Bird brain' comes from? It's because they shit on books. OK, so I'm tarring them all with the same brush. I only have evidence of starlings shitting on books, but it's likely that any bird would do the same, given the chance, except, perhaps, crows, which are supposed to be smart. Unfortunately, they're not smart enough to realise that there's an endless supply of food scraps to be had from humans stuffing their faces at Camden Market whilst starlings are. They sit in the rafters of the overhanging balcony outside Black Gull Books, passing judgement on humanity's efforts to impart information and entertainment by shitting on our cultural achievement! That's what they think of us and our so-called civilisation! They mock us - I hear them chattering away to each other: "Pathetic humans! There, that's what I think of books! Now let's get some food from them." 

I don't know what starling shit is comprised of but it's resistant to merely being cleaned off with, say, a baby wipe - they laugh at ingredients such as sodium benzoate! I know, having tried twice on different jackets, one of which is dark blue. No use. So I could only pose all day as a filthy bohemian book seller - they are a breed, you know, the last of their kind, sadly; a generation of dealers with a devil-may-care attitude towards any kind of sartorial pride (like most people these days). They are kin to the old Soho boho set of Francis Bacon and Jeffrey Bernard - louche, literary, unkempt and a bit crazy. Chris, the Black Gull owner, once suggested that I must be 'crazy', otherwise I wouldn't be working in the shop - ha-ha! I laughed, but after a few months there I'm starting to think he might be right.

Perhaps it's something to do with being surrounded by a lot of Wisdom in book-form yet confronted by stupid people on a daily basis. Every day someone wanders in, looks around and walks out as if completely nonplussed by what they're looking at. Oh well, a life of reading is not for everyone, eh? Just yesterday a woman who must have been at least 70 handed me two Kids books and asked me what age group they were suitable for. How the hell should I know?! Can't you work that out? I mean, you've lived long enough and presumably either met or actually had children! 

The funniest request also happened yesterday when a man leaned into the counter and asked for anything related to nuns.

   "My wife is mad about anything to do with nuns," he smiled.

   "No, sorry," I replied.

   "None?" He joked.

   "None."

   Ironically, I'd sold a copy of Aldous Huxley's The Devils of Loudun just half an hour earlier. What are the chances of that happening?

One way I keep myself entertained is playing music from Spotify on the phone linked to a small portable speaker. Yesterday I treated the public to The John Coltrane Quartet Plays, but as Coltrane got stuck into his solo on Brazilia I wondered if it wasn't...too much...for Them (those for whom His Majesty's sonic explorations in the name of improvisational self-expression are just a bloody racket). I mean, he's too much for me sometimes. Was he scrambling their brains, which needed to focus on reading and not be disrupted by sonic interference? Probably. Normally I play it safe, present favourites being the likes of Jelly Roll Morton and Sidney Bechet. No-one can object to early Jazz, except those that hate it. Coltrane's rampant progressive approach is, however, another matter, isn't it? Part of me was ready to stop the album after that track, whilst another part felt the urge to force Greatness upon the public and make 'em 'ave it! There! Take this! Cautious me won out, though. I moved on to Velvet Underground's third album and when the track Jesus played I thought of Sister Rosetta Tharpe's Gospel Train album, jumping in at the third track, Jesus Is Here Today. As LJ joked the other week when I said I played the best music of any book shop, I still can't help being a DJ, despite having been retired for several years. Three tracks later comes Up Above My Head I Hear Music In The Air, in which Sister sings 'Up above my head I see trouble in the air'. I couldn't help wondering if she too had a problem with starlings.