The famous bookstore in Oxford.
I'm here. I'm really here.
What's Blackwell's, you ask?
I won't judge you for not knowing. I really won't.
Here's a description.
I had researched the bookstore before leaving home. I was greatly looking forward to visiting.
I dreamed a terrible dream some weeks before our holiday. I dreamed I had walked up to the front door of Blackwell's only to find it closed for renovations. I woke up in a cold sweat. Ran for my computer and looked up the website to be sure the dates we were in Oxford coincided with Blackwell's hours. Whew! It was only a dream. A nightmare for sure.
By far, Blackwell's is the best bookshop in all the world. Floors and floors of books.
My hubby knows me. I was going to be here awhile. He spent a bit of time with me and then decided to go back to the bed and breakfast. "Take your time," he said.
"You do realize I could be here for hours," I replied.
"I know." He winked at me and left me to my books.
Hours later, I made my way back to the bed and breakfast. Empty handed.
My hubby was shocked. "Didn't you buy anything?"
"A lot," I answered.
"Where's the bag of goods?"
"Wouldn't fit in my luggage so I had to have it all shipped home."
Bug eyed hubby replied, "You're kidding, right?"
I grinned. "Nope."
His eyes became dollar signs!
And sure enough, a week or so after returning from our holiday, the treasured box arrived. I got to relive Blackwell's all over again. And hubby got to pay the bill!
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