On Wednesday, March 4, I took a taxi from Bristol across the bridge into Wales. The taxi driver enthused over Bristol the entire way, and rightly so.

“You know Banksy, right?”
I did, yes.
“Well, he’s from around here of course, and the guy that tought him everything. I drive him all the time, but he’s just like a regular person, you know? That what Bristol does. We’re not stuck up or anything. And lots of great music. I was in Vegas with my best friends for a stag night, and they had all these bands, with tickets costing an arm and a leg, and I just thought: But I’ve already seen them, in Bristol? And you could just walk down the street and go into all these different clubs, for free, and hear som great music. But Vegas was nice too. Don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t party for four straight days, but my friend, the one who was getting married, he definitely tried to. The rest of us took it a it easier. We’re older now, you know? Wives and kids. Couldn’t do it. And then we all got some sort of food poisoning or something on the way home and came home completely worn out. Didn’t get much sympathy from me wife, though. You’ve been away from the kids having fun, and then you come home and expects to be able to rest? She got a point, too. So what are you doing in Chepstow?”
Oh, visiting the bookshop, of course.

The Chepstow is located on St. Mary Street, in Chepstow, Monmouthshire. Their recommendation: Any Human Heart, by William Boyd. And then we hung around, talking about my epic trip and my book, until Matt said: “Are you by any chance visiting Rossiter Books afterwards?”
I was indeed.
“Then perhaps… I wonder, could you do me a favour and deliver this book to them? Apparently it’s the last copy in the area, and a customer of theirs needed it urgently. I was going to head down to the post office, but if you’re going there…?”

Naturally I was only too happy to oblige, but I wondered if it was really wise to entrust a book to a booknerd. Do not steal the book, do not steal the book kept going through my head.

I didn’t even peak inside the bag, so now I don’t know which book it was that I was strong enough not to steal. I thought it was best not to tempt myself.