Seeking space
It's just not possible to have too many books. It's a theoretical impossibility. You can have the wrong books, bad books, silly books. And 95 per cent of books have no resale value at all. But you can't have too many books. No, my problem is that I don't have enough bookshelves. And the reason I don't have enough shelves for all those lovely books is that I don't have enough space. Books line every wall, stand in piles on the floor, wait in stacks on the stairs for a more permenant home, not to mention the two rooms in the house that have been given over to book storage totally. But we still don't have enough room for books.
So, today, I looked at local storage solutions. Of course, everyone knows that land and property of any sort is expensive in London (although, thankfully, not as expensive as Japan) but even being prepared didn't make the task any easier. The local council offer decent units at a reasonable-for-south-east-London price, but insist on a 5 year minimum lease. Yelp! I might have flown to the moon by then. The commercial world clearly moves faster as the three units I tried to visit later this afternoon had all be taken by the time I got there. Perhaps I should invest in skates rather than storage. I rather depressing day.
But tomorrow promises more. I have found a small, local storage company who rent out space in small chunks at just about affordable prices and who, bless them, only need a week's notice. No lease, no solicitors, no service fee, no premium, nor any of the other costs than everyone else seems to want to add. So tomorrow I shall visit and inspect. I'm assured the unit are dry, but then I was assured that one of the units I visited this afternoon was dry. When pointed to the somewhat obvious hole in the roof and the tell-tale damp spot on the floor, the agent suggested that perhaps I might not put books under the hole. That one got struck off the list very quickly.
There are days when I wish bookselling could be just about selling books. Today was one of those days.
