Stamford is a wonderfully attractive place that allows no encroachment from the modern world. There is no Tesco Express, no Weatherspoons, no Superdrug, no Co-op, no Costa Coffee. All the architecture is Medieval or Tudor and all the post boxes are Victorian. In the “Old and Rare Bookshop” a written notice politely asks you not to touch the piles of books that lean haphazardly by the walls in the narrow entrance passage. They are not processed or priced you see and some may be valuable. I loved the chaos in this shop, including the locked glass-fronted cupboards and the higgledy- piggledy open shelves, but I wasn’t so keen on the taxidermy of boxing hares and suchlike. They did, however, add to the atmosphere and gave me the feeling that I had wandered into a Dickensian novel. I half expected Mr Venus from Our Mutual Friend to round the corner, rubbing his hands.
I had to look twice at one book on display in the children’s department. I thought it said “How to Cook with Children” but on closer inspection I saw that it said “How to Cook Children”. It was a recipe book for witches with wonderful illustrations featuring crazy crones stirring giant cauldrons. I thought it would make an excellent Christmas gift for those among my friends who are witches.
