Yesterday we headed for Salisbury as a family member had a routine appointment at the hospital. Well, there were two appointments actually, one at 10.30am and the other at 3.40pm. With all that time to spare we headed for the city centre to grab some lunch. Also, predictably, Sarah and Rebecca wanted to do a bit of shopping. Jonathan opted to stay at home so I didn't even have anyone to talk to as the girls disappeared in the depths of New Look for an hour and a half.
But all was not lost as I brought Don Carson's The Intolerance of Tolerance along with me. I read a few pages at the hospital and settled down to read some more in the city centre while Sarah and Rebecca hit the shops. No sooner had I parked myself on a bench, it started to rain. So, I wandered in and out of a few shops. More to stop getting wet than in the hope of buying anything. The shower quickly stopped and I was able to find a place on another bench where I could resume reading Carson. Good stuff on how the very meaning of tolerance has changed from putting up with stuff with which we don't agree to the view that honestly disagreeing with anyone is itself intolerant. Something like that anyway. I'll post a review when I'm done.
After reading a good chunk I went for a wander and ended up in Waterstones. Had a good browse, mainly in the classics, poetry and history sections before going off in search of wife and daughter so we could have lunch together. I rang Sarah's mobile only to hear her calling to me from behind. We headed for Cafe Nero, a favourite lunchtime eaterie in Salisbury. Good coffee and tasty paninis. After lunch the girls headed off to the shops and I walked aimlessly through the city centre. Found another bookshop. I can't remember what it was called, but it was a cheapo remainder job. Decent classics section, though. I'd been meaning to read some Dickens, with this year being the bicentenary of his birth. So, I snapped up A Tale of Two Cities, the Wordsworth Classics edition, for only £2.
It was the best of times. I'd just bought a book. And the worst of times. Next I was required to give my opinion on the seemingly endless stream of outfits that Sarah and Rebecca were trying on in New Look. What's a man to do? You speak your mind, "I don't like it, its rubbish." and suddenly you are Mr. Grumpy. You tell them what you think they want to hear to get it over and done with quickly, and invite a crisis of conscience for being economical with the truth. Eventually clothes were bought and we returned to Salisbury Hospital.
More waiting, more reading of Carson. Started final chapter. Appointment over. Stopped reading at number 2 of Carson's ten words on tolerance.
Drove home.
Quick evening meal.
Bible Study/Prayer Meeting. We discussed Zechariah 13:7-9.
Watched The Apprentice on V+.
And that's about it.
4 comments:
There used to be a secondhand bookshop near the cathedral; probably, like so many secondhand bookshops, long gone. The most exciting purchase I made there was H B Swete on the gospel of Mark; so not very exciting at all really.
The SPCK bookshop near the cathedral (new and secondhand - if that's the one you meant) closed a while ago.
New Look is like some kind of special torture chamber for men.
It's the modern-day equivalent of the thumb screw and the rack. And you have to cough up at the end. At least poor the unfortunates of yesteryear didn't have to pay for the privilege of being crushed or stretched.
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