The Road More Travelled

As a poor student I can remember pressing my cold nose against the windows of shops such as W S Foster and Floris in Jermyn Street and now I understand that they have some of my books for sale. And that's not all: Floris tell me that Brummell's ghost pops in from time to time and he was seen actually reading one of them at the counter. Apparently, he was smiling as he was reading but the devil of it is that I shall never know whether he was smiling in approbation or derision; still Brummell's ghost was reading my book in Floris: that's a long way down the road from just having a cold nose pressed, Little Match Girl-like, against a plate glass window of another of the world's most beautiful shops.

Speaking of things olfactory: gentle readers might keep their eyes open for a feature in The Field magazine entitled How Not To Smell Like a Dank Dog by someone from around here. I think that it's in the next edition. Thanks to John Bodenham of Floris, it even includes some nice pictures from their archive.