Judging a book by its cover....

Yesterday I was robbed in broad daylight! Literally because they were books and also literally cos it was daytime. It's so obvious after the event when you think back on it; two middle aged men came in one asked for philosphy books, while the other went straight to the back of the shop to eye up the children's books. The first man, who looked too simple and badly dressed, to be asking for the philosophy section came to pay for two books (value aprox. £15) with a credit card which didn't work, thereby distracting me from his accomplice; he'd chosen them too quickly as well so I sensed that something was wrong. My suspicions, having been aroused, meant that I was trying to keep an eye on the tea leaving scally at the back while he, as I found out later was trousering (actually bagging and coating) several Billy Bunter Annuals (aprox value £100) While I'm being distracted by the man trying to pay the scally walks out in a bit of a hurry and pays for one of the Billy Bunter annuals, presumeably to throw me off the scent. I think I noticed that his bag looked a little heavy, but could swear that it wasn't when he walked in. Half an hour late the penny drops and I look at the shelf of Billy Bunters with a large gap missing. Tea leaves long gone off to their secret hideaway to devide up their booty! Or at least that's what I thought had happened until this morning when the man who'd tried to pay on his card and asked me to keep the two books for him turned up, with cash this time, to pay for his books. Such was my surprise to see him that I couldn't help myself, I stopped short of violence or even actually accusing him of the crime, but I did ask him if he was with another man yesterday and implied that it was a huge coincidence that the books were going missing at that exact time. I have to admit that it wouldn't have made any sense for him to come back for his books (unless he's a philosophical cleptomaniac or something) and he did stay awhile and bought two more books also. He made a sort of feeble, I've been hurt, joke as he opened his carrier bag to show that he wasn't hiding anything! I've learnt a valuable lesson from this: you just never can jump to conclusions, no matter what someone looks like, or sounds like, or however obvious something looks. Dare I say it, I really will from now on never judge a book by it's cover....

Go on Go on Go ON....

Taking lunch with the vicar was a first for me yesterday. It wasn't just me and him, I'm not that important and as far as I know I haven't done anything too damning recently; no it was myself and a mixture of teachers from local schools, local business people and some of the church wardens and staff. The Rev. Mark Brown is the new(ish) vicar of the Parish of St. Peter and St. Paul, in other words the parish church. What I didn't know, but as of yesterday do now, is that Rev. Brown also looks after three other churches in the same parish, St Saviours, I knew about, Christ Church on the High Street and also one I didn't even know was there, St. Philip's (I think) out at Cage Green. It was quite odd and a little awkward at first, like all of these gatherings can be, but I decided that there was no harm in mingling and just being myself; a couple of glasses of lovely Gallo red wine helped to mellow me out a little (which I needed as I had just left a plummer at my house and only half an hour before there had been water spurting from the hot water tank as we frantically cleared the under-sink cupboard to turn off the stop cock! That's another story though.) The buffet was excellent: lots of mini quishes, small two-bite sized sandwiches with a whole range of fillings all with crusts cut off, vol au vent thingies, and of course cakes, buns and more cakes. We were asked to sit down and listen to a short sermon speech from the vicar and I must admit that I was thinking at this point "here we go, we've all got to come to church or we're going straight to hell..." but not a bit of it. He was friendly, asking us to join in wherever we could, offering his services to school assemblies, informing us about the new look Contact (church) magazine and most importantly of all keeping it brief. In fact I got the impression that he is a genuinely nice man. I then mingled and chatted as the sandwiches were now brought to us on trays, I chatted to church committee members, (more sandwiches,) I chatted to the curate (would I like cake?) I chatted to Slades Head Teacher (go on you can have another piece of cake.) Go on, go on now! There was no way that any of that beautifully prepared buffet was going in the bin. Honestly it was just like Mrs. Doyle on Father Ted; in fact it was more like having four Mrs. Doyles all at once! You just daren't say no. A very entertaining and satisfying lunch time, I should do it more often....

Tonbridge Library Cafe....

There's a good comment on the Guardian web site today about how the British Library has become a trendy place to hang out and order a cappucino. Once the haunt of 'mad old women' and only very serious academic types the recently changed admissions policy has made it the undergraduate place to be. So much so that post graduates with real reasearch to do are finding it increasingly difficult to get a seat. Tonbridge blog wonders whether Kent County Council could do the same with Tonbridge Central Library. It already has computer terminals upstairs in the reference library, which always seems busy with students from West Kent College and elsewhere clicking and tapping away. (I remember when you could hear a pin drop in a library, instead of this racket!) There are cds and dvds for sale and for hire downstairs, they sell cards, keyrings and other gifts, there are even some books in there somewhere! So come on then KCC why not a little cafe to make it a trendy teenage hang out joint. It may stop a few of them from becoming hooked on alcopops and other intoxicating substances; they might even read a few books in between gigling and rabbiting on about who they fancy and which disco rave thingies are in at the moment, or how many aliens they've maimed playing Halo 3, or whether this Nokia has more mega pixels than that Sony Erickson (or whatever young folk talk about these days) Or should libraries just continue to be boring places to sit quietly sifting through old volumes of Charles Dickens?...

Willkommen zu Tonbridge und Tunbridge Wells....

This week I'm going to be doing my bit for Anglo-Euro relations. We will be having a German kid staying with us as part of my son's school exchange visit. He'll be going over there soon (cos that's the way it works you know!) It will be a bit of an upheaval having Constantine stay but I'm actually looking forward to it. My own command of the German language stretches as far as: eine beer und eine bucke mit caiser bitte (sic) which, loosely translated means: can I have a beer and a cheese roll please. You may mock but that phrase could mean the difference between a miserable journey or a satisfying snack. I ought to point out that I'm a lover of most cheeses, except from memory I don't think cheese is Germany's strong point. Fortunately my wife saves the day, yet again, as she's pretty much fluent, having studied German to at least O level standard. As far as I know she's never actually been there but that hasn't stopped her putting me to shame on numerous foreign holidays by having proper grown-up conversations with our Teutonic cousins. Anyway, no obvious war jokes please (I had to go and mention it didn't I!) I'll report back and let you know how the invasion week went if you want to hear. It takes me back to my school exchange visit to Konigswinter, near Bonn, when I were a lad. Ah yes, the lager, the football, the athletics matches, Abba, Sorry I'm a Lady, Black is Black I Want my Baby Back, the 1970s discos, the open air swimming pool, the girls in swimsuits, Claudia in particular; now that's another story and one which you will probably never hear!....

A trip down Happy memory lane....

When my wife and I first moved to Tonbridge in the late 1980s an average Friday night would be a well earned few pints in the Ivy House, a couple of nice drinks in what used to be called the Office Wine Bar, maybe a cheeky one in The Castle and then on to the Happy Cuisine down Avebury Avenue for an excellent Ruby Murray. On successive Friday nights we probably ate the whole menu between us. Then we had kids and, although we tried to pretend that we could still go to restaurants and that it wouldn't change our lives like it had so many of our friends', all that gradually changed. These days we hardly ever go out; so last night we decided that we would. It seemed really odd walking down to the Punch and Judy, in St. Stevens Street. When we walked in the bar we felt a little like the American tourists walking in to that pub in the Yorkshire moors in American Werewolf in London. The place was pretty dead for a Friday night, perhaps the in-crowd were already at the Humphrey Bean or the Slug and Lettuce, not in a coppers' pub, as the P&J is probably thought of. We had a couple of pints of their rather excellent London Pride which went down very well on a cold night, as last night was. Then on to our old favourite haunt, The Happy Cuisine. Again hardly anyone there, three groups of people in the whole time we were there. It was different and yet so familiar, a paint job and a little refurbishment, but unmistakably our old place, the waiters were very friendly, especially the owner's son and we had a really nice meal. Predictably I had a Chicken Tika Mossala, always a banker, and my wife plumped for an old favourite of her's, a Korai King Prawn, and we had all the old trimmings like Sag Aloo, popapums, naan breads, lime pickle, mango chutney etc. etc. Yes and after the meal they still brought the hot towels and After Eight mints, as they did fifteen years previously, a tried and trusted restaurant technique to soften the blow of the bill and to maximise their tip potential. We left them a rather good tip of around £3 (against my better judgement, but then my wife always was more generous than me on that score) well at least it would have been generous in 1989! We left feeling reassured that life in the Happy Cuisine carries on, the waiters who served us are probably the sons and nephews of the waiters who served us before but they're every bit as friendly and attentive. I like the more up market Indian restuarants like the Alishan, which are springing up every where but, for me, I'll always have the best memories of sitting by the table next to the fish tank in the good old Happy Cuisine....

Even more uplifting tale....

For all of you who have followed the story of Stuart (who used to be rather cruelly nicknamed Duvet Dave) which was originally posted on T blog a couple of weeks ago and then appeared in this weekend's Courier there is another, even more heart warming chapter to report. Stuart's mother has been in contact with me after a friend showed her the article in the Kent and Sussex Courier. She is delighted to hear that her son seems to be back on his feet as she hasn't been in contact with him for several years. Stuart if you are reading this I wish you a long and peaceful life doing whatever makes you happy....

Tonbridge blog shocking journalist....

This is what regular commenter and fellow ranter MattieG labelled me as in a recent comment posted on this site. And I have to agree with him on this occasion that he's right! I was riding a strange contraption (actually it was one of those fold-up bikes, which are extremely handy little things and a possible part of the solution to parking and traffic chaos in Tonbridge and perhaps even the climate change debacle, but that's another story!) I did see the police cars and ambulances and road blocked off and several cars at angles across Pembury Road. My whole body and mind was screaming to go and investigate; every fibre of the journalistic streak within me cried for me to pedal down to the scene of the crime/accident/incident or whatever it was. But I'm afraid the fold-up bike had a mind of its own and decided that I'd had enough excitement running the bookshop and blogging for one day and that my legs just about had one more big climb in them so up I went to be crowned, once again, the King of Le Quarry 'ill, the imaginery Polka Dot Jersey was mine once more (sorry that was last year wasn't it!) Looking back I am ashamed that I ignored my journalistic instinct and didn't turn back, whip out my Sony Erickson camera phone and bring Tonbridge bloggers the world over those exclusive snaps. So as a consollation here's a picture of a lovely spring scene instead. What was occuring on Pembury Rd anyway, does anyone have a clue? Perhaps I should appoint MattieG as chief South Tonbridge correspondent and general busybody....

No Impact Cafe update....

I went in yesterday to clear out my books from the now bankrupt Impact Coffee and Cards, the charity coffee shop on Tonbridge High Street, which opened at 9-45am, just after you'd had a coffee elsewhere and closed at 3-30pm, just before you fancied afternoon tea. Apparently the charity, Instant Muscle, which owned the cafe, went into administration and is subject to a possible investigation by fraud officers, was just left as it was on the day the staff walked in for a day's work only to receive their marching orders, and no money! The evidence of a sudden departure inside the coffee shop was evident; crumbs still left in cake stands, washing up piled up on the draining board and not done, till open with receipts spilling out, silver and copper cash left, notes taken, food still in the fridge, basically just abandoned. I would take it on as a bookstore cafe but the landlords want £27,500 annually for it. Not even Mr. Books can stretch to that! So maybe over to Costa Coffee, Burger King or another hairdresser then....

A brush with the HSBC Police....

I witnessed mild road rage yesterday.... my own that is! To cut a long and infuriating story short I decided to drop my son off at HSBC Bank in Tonbridge so that he could pay in some money. He said that he wouldn't wait if there was a queue, but it was the first time he'd actually paid money in on his own. (He's good at taking it out!) So I decide to wait a little while outside the bank tucked in out of the way on River Walk. I swear to you that within 1 minute a Goon aka Parking Attendant had spotted me and signalled for me to move off the yellow lines. The dilema now was what do I do about my son? so I stopped the engine, as I was causing no blockage in the road, and ran into the bank to see how long he was going to take. Then I ran back out, reversed a bit went forward a bit (felt ridiculous, but at least I was technically manoeuvring so could not be caught out there. Then an HSBC employee was waiting to move into the narrow entrance to the road that I was, by now, at the junction of debating with myself whether to wait a little longer or to pull away, drive round needlessly for a few minutes and then come back in the hope that my son would have read my mind. (He's recently had his moble stolen so that wasn't an option either!) This HSBC worker, I knew she was that by the red sweat shirt which said HSBC on it, (I'll make a sleuth yet!) by now was rolling her eyes as if to say get out of the way I'm a busy lady. Due to that road rage feeling we all get in these sort of circumstances, this eye rolling annoyed the hell out of me, why was her day more important than mine! As she drove past me she rolled down her window and said that it was a private road (I'm pretty sure that that was a bare faced lie) so I said sarcastically why don't you call the police then and just lingered where I was for a few moments longer quietly fuming inside, in the hope that the lad would come out of the bank. I then saw in my rear view mirror that this bank lady was in her car (by the way now completely blocking the narrrow road herself) on the phone, seemingly writing down my number plate. So I got out of the car and walked up to hers, trying to keep my cool, being careful not to touch her car, signalled for her to wind down her window and said words to the effect that for her information I was waiting for my young son, who was a customer in her bank. Slightly taken aback by my boldness, she murmurred something about the traffic wardens being keen on booking cars in that zone, to which I spattered back to her that I'd already encountered one. It could so easily have turned nastier, but we both left it at that; it's plain to see from these mild examples of road rage how they can develop into a major incident. To cut an even longer story short I then had to drive round to Somerfield car park, only to find that they now charge 60p, and pay to park for the first time in Tonbridge for over three years (yes really, you just have to know where and be prepared to walk a little); but that's another story. And the moral is, don't mess with the HSBC Police, especially if they've got your money....

Are the council spying on us?...

It would be interesting to know whether the actions reported in today's Telegraph apply to our own Tonbridge and Malling Borough Council. Are we being spied on?? According to the report legislation aimed at preventing terrorism is being used by councils like TMBC to catch out people who allow their dogs to foul public footpaths, fly tippers and families suspected of the heinous crime of falsifying their schools application forms. Some might say these "crimes" if that's what they are, need stamping out, but really isn't this heavy handed use of KGB-style surveillance equipment going just a little too far. Is it another step towards our country becoming a police state? Modern technology allows councils to take this kind of action at relatively little cost; parking attendants already routinely use cameras to justify their extorting ever more fines on motorists, but surely our own council would not stoop so low, surely TMBC keep the right side of the fine line between catching wrong dooers and becoming the Stasi-like wrong doers themselves. Don't they?...

Uplifting tale....

Many business people and shoppers in the centre of Tonbridge will remember the sight of a bare footed man with long hair and a long grey beard, wearing very little but a duvet. He was out in all weather thus attired; I believe that many, especially cruel-tongued school kids refered to him as Duvet Dave. He happened upon my shop in Bank Street back then, a couple of years ago, when he was obviously in a desparate state. He asked me if I had a copy of the Holy Bible and also of Pilgrims Progress; both books I had and gave them to him saying give the ten pounds when you can. I'll be honest and say that I didn't ever expect to see that tenner and I have thought very little of the occasion ever since. Until that is today when a man in a newish-looking weather proof anorak-style jacket, wearing smart trainers walked into my shop and said, words to the effect, that once I had been very kind to him and given him some books and that he would like to repay that generosity. It turns out that Duvet Dave is in fact called Stuart and now he just looks like a slightly hippy man in his early fifties. He still has the beard and longish hair and I did just about recognise his face. He not only paid me the ten quid, which I'd written off, but also bought two more books for around another twenty pounds. We had a fairly lengthy conversation about the stae of the world, religion and all sorts of other subjects; Stuart, it seems, is a fairly well spoken and intelligent man who just lost his way a little. It almost restores your faith in the human race doesn't it!...

No Impact Cafe closes as charity goes into administration....

It seems that the "charity" Instant Muscle which had a large training centre in the town as well as running a cafe in Tonbridge High Street, is no more. This is mildly annoying to Tonbridge blog as my alter ego Mr. Books had around two thousand books on sale there; they are currently locked in there, along with some rather nice folding bookcases. My annoyance must be insignificant vesus that of the employees of the organisation, who turned up to work one day in late February to be told that they had no job, oh and by the way, wouldn't be paid for the previous month's work either. The government charity apparently just went bust, having lost the confidence of its backers. In short it has "DODGY" written all over it. They actually owe me money, not alot, and I didn't mind giving them money for renting space in their badly run cafe because I was fooled into thinking it was a good cause, but now I'm pissed off even if it's only a hundred quid or so on pricinple. Anyone who frequented their cafe "Impact Coffee and Cards" would have noticed something about the place; a few paces along the High Street Cafe Nero would have been packed out with people queueing up to pay their £2 for a tall skinny latte or whatever; further up they'd have noticed a similar stream of people at Starbucks waiting for their Milan Moccas. But at Impact, they'd have seen a just a few old folk sipping their tea-bag tea or filter coffee; if you fancied a cup before 9-30am you'd have been lucky, and after noon tea would have been a rarity since the cafe was invariably closed by 3-30pm. So the two times when you fancy a drink the most, their doors weren't open. I'd love to get hold of that place and run it as Mr. Books Book Store Cafe and if I did I'd open at 7-30am and close at 8pm, unlike this shambles of a now defunct so-called charity who in the words of Alan Sugar on the BBC's The Apprentice didn't have a bloody clue....

TJ's Chairman's happy hour....

Clocked: watching one of my favourite Friday night comedy programmes, Happy Hour with Al Murray as the Pub Landlord, last night was Tonbridge Juddians Chairman big Gazza Martin, as clear as day, the TV studio lights reflecting off the top of his shiney bonce. Just as well he was sat just in front of 'Big Bob' behind and I'd never have spotted him! Well Gary does need something to smile about this season; let's face it there's little to cheer him up down at the TJ's Slade ground this year. Please take your glasses back to the bar....

Weather not fair....

Well the West Kent Book Fair came and went on Sunday; fair weather leading up to it, beautiful fresh sunny weather so far this week. The day of the fair? Blizzard! Bloody arctic conditions of course; the only day that snow has actually settled in Tonbridge in the whole of the winter season. This meant that one of the authors was unable to get there, it meant that visitor numbers were well down on usual, and it meant a few unhappy booksellers at the end of the day. Some of them had only just about covered their costs for the day after table fees, petrol and cost of stock were taken into account. Who'd be a book dealer eh? To be honest I was quite surprised that as many as did braved the weather. It just goes to show that if you're a real book worm or collector there isn't alot that will stop you. I really was very close to getting our own Dame Kelly Holmes along to sign her new children's book, Katy the Shooting Star, but alas she had some Olympic torch carrying duties to attend to on Sunday. (A lame excuse, or should that be Dame excuse!) I wonder if half the town would have turned out despite the weather if our local celebrity had been able to make it? We'll never know. I felt sorry for Katherine Reynolds, prize winning author of a children's book called Born to Dance; she and her husband had travelled all the way from Somerset to promote her book. I hope that their stay in Tonbridge's finest hotel, the Rose and Crown at least made the trip a pleasant one. The next fair will be on October 26th when a record turn out is expected, fair weather permitting....

Katie you're fired....

Fans of the BBC's The Apprentice will enjoy this YouTube lego animated version; it certainly made me chuckle....

Poetry at the Ivy tonight....

Yes it has come round yet again. For all you poetry fans out there who are within striking distance of Tonbridge come to the Ivy House pub on the corner of Bordyke and Tonbridge High Street. Starts at around 8pm and is totally open mic. Just bring some money for the drinks, mines a pint of Fosters....

Take a great book to bed....

As Piers Morgan has managed to wring out of Liberal leader, Nick Clegg, the number of sexual partners he's had in a recent interview for GQ Mag, (between twenty and 30 if you're intersted) Tonbridge blog asks: Is it too personal a question to ask how many books have you read in your life!? I met a head teacher recently who confessed that he'd only read four in his life and one of them was a rugby player's biography! (He is Welsh, but still pretty poor for a school principal none-the-less.) Thinking about it maybe he had misunderstood the question, which would then make far more sense! I reckon that I've read less than 1,000 (novels that is) which for a book shop owner is not great. I've met some Tonbridge men who boast that they had the pleasure of over 9,000 in their lives; and women who boast as few as 120. But then men do tend to over claim and women to under play the number! How many books have you gone to bed with?...

Blatant ad for West Kent Book Fair this Sunday....

Come along to the

West Kent Book Fair & Literary Event (Tonbridge)

THIS SUNDAY April 6th

See web site for details and directions to the fair

Greens shoot....

As the first days of Spring arrive I did my bit for the environment at the weekend by attending not one but three events organised by the Canaries in a Coalmine project. The first of these, a dance performance called Global Storming, held at the E.M. Forster Theatre, Tonbridge School was simply fantastic. This was a combination of junior schools, senior schools and community dance projects. Yes there was a little bit of that feeling of being at the school Christmas play and having to applaud every scene with a cutsie show-off girl in it, but mixed in with some of the distinctly mediocre performances were some quite stunning dance pieces. I hate to single out people or groups but feel I must; the Commotion groups and Hillview dancers were absolutely superb; Tonbridge blog has learnt that one or two of the more senior members of the group are, not at all surprisingly, on their way to ballet schools and the like. The piece entitled Fusion was breath takingly brilliant and showed great poise, complexity and creativity. I went along expecting to be lightly entertained and came out feeling really quite moved emotionally. And as if that weren't enough there was the lantern procession (not march, as we were all reminded, as we turned up at West Kent College car park on a foul Saturday evening.) Myself, my kids and around 70 others walked up Tonbridge High Street carrying home made lanterns (recycled paper of course!) a few had brought wind up torches, none of the lanterns were lit because A. It would have been bad for the climate and B. they would have set light to themselves, and maybe the the whole town. After becoming more and more soaked and being gawked at by people in McDonalds and Starbucks we arrived at Tonbridge School not knowing quite what if anything we'd achieved. My excuse was that I only went along to give the kids something to do anyway. Then later the same night there was the Concert to Save the Planet (or gig if you prefer) billed to be open air at the Castle, but ending up also at Tonbridge School in Big School Hall. Despite the rather ambitious title this too was a great event; that is though enough for one posting, so that's another story....