I swung by an hour ago and found a state of January sale-level mayhem, albeit polite, quiet, bookish mayhem (no frantic tugs of war with the Taschens).
I'd gone in determined not to lose my head, and to allow myself only things I'd been meaning to purchase anyway. I picked up The Philosopher and the Wolf and Vroom by the Sea, and the DVD of Bolt.
Then I wandered through the Music section on the off-chance they had that book on the folk-rock movement that's been on my Amazon wishlist for the past four years, or perhaps The Three Chord Eagles Songbook, and then I saw it.
Paul Simon: Lyrics 1964-2008. A huge, glossy, utterly unnecessary hardback that I hadn't known existed until that second, priced at £20.
Mine. Feeling slightly giddy, I joined the queue - which ran the length of the ground floor, twice - behind shoppers carrying loaded baskets or stacks of books half a metre high. At the till, I demanded and received the free stuffed hamster to go with my DVD.
Don't let me go back tomorrow!
