Sitting at the books table, I was able to read along with the reading, which was fun.
What was not fun was watching the first person to approach the drinks/snacks table slop coffee all over the clean linen.
At the end of the day, having carted the cups and saucers down to the kitchen and picked up a handful of tomato bits from the bruschetta from the floor, I presented Kelly with my little pile of books.
(This was in addition to the copy of Tanis' book I purchased from myself at the event...)
Books:Kelly looked at me, looked at the books, at the till and the manual credit card contraption.
Cornish Legends by Robert Hunt (Tor Mark Press, undated)
The All-True Travels and Adventures of Liddie Newton: A Novel by Jane Smiley (Knopf, 1998)
Stanley Park by Timothy Taylor (Vintage, 2001)
Muriella Pent by Russell Smith (Random House, 2005)
The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon trans. by Ivan Morris (Penguin, 1971)
The Koka Shastra: Being the Ratirahasya of Kokkoka and other Medieval Indian Writings on Love trans. by Alex Comfort (Tandem, 1966)
He then rolled his eyes, said he no longer cared about money, and gave them back.
It was not an insignificant pile either...
I'd collected them yesterday, when I finished shelving the fiction section, but had left them overnight, hoping that the me that muttered about the enormous piles of books beside the bed from other ruinous days at the bookstore would prevail.
And I did manage to put three back. But then I added two more. Sigh...