Old and new and old again.

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There is this lovely weird junk curiosity shop here, called Jean Deaux (formerly, or as a previous annex to, a think called “John Doe,” har har har dee har har). It is so bizarre. I really can’t think what to make of it. Just scattered piles of stuff, including ridiculous, mind-boggling numbers of old records. Many of them are in fine shape. We bought several (read: loads) this weekend. S picked up a recording of Glenn Gould doing Bach and Beethoven piano concerti – and I was angry, that he wouldn’t let me get it, and keep it for mine own.

Then we listened to it: like listening to a perfectly good performance on a hissing and unruly radio. I said: “OK. It’s yours.” Sad, but necessary.

But Jean Deaux is kept by Exceedingly Nice People. Even if they haven’t (as the sign says) got any coffee.

I do so love it in this little town.

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