May 11 2013Well, today I was out doing random shopping and fell into that cheap chain of book-and-stationery stores on the High Street again and came out with these two.

In my defence: I will buy anything by Hunter Davies, including the one on football. I have read and loved him since he used to write for Punch (and the Guardian?) way back when. And I do like a sports bio … and a running book ..l and a book about the Olympics, so the Seb Coe one fulfils all of those (I know he’s a Tory, too. I do read a few books by Tories. Haven’t converted me yet!).

I am a bit worried about the amount of book buying that I’ve been doing recently, and I thought having to “confess” on this blog would make me pause … nope. I did get rid of 10 books, straight out of the house, this morning, as I read a horribly distressing thing I don’t want to go into in a volume of autobiography of a chap I’ve been collecting for years, and had to get rid of all of his books to the charity shop (let’s not discuss that anymore though, please, even though I’m usually begging for comments on my posts).

Anyway, the horrific conversation wasn’t about the horrid book. No: the horrific conversation went like this:

Both shop assistants: Who’s Seb Coe, then? Never heard of him.

Me: What???? He like RAN THE OLYMPICS. And ran IN the Olympics in the 80s. He was one of our greatest middle-distance runners. I know I’m ancient, but surely … ??? He was all over the Olympic coverage. He brought them here and he organised them. Y’know … last year? Olympics?

Boy shop assistant: I’m not really into the Olympics and that sort of thing.

Girl shop assistant: He’s got really nice hair, anyway.

I can’t really add anything to that, can I. Oh well.