To Pamela
From Daddy
Xmas 1932
Another of the pleasures of secondhand books, peripheral to the volume itself, but hugely intriguing, are the extras that often come along too. Bits of paper falling out, inscriptions, prices, a particular edition. Lucky me to have received a copy of Peter Duck fresh off the press in its first edition. And with a smaller inserted page behind the title page promoting Swallows and Amazons on one side, illustrations by Clifford Webb. 7s 6d. net. If only. £1.00 for me in a Falmouth charity shop.
Looking through the rest of my battered green hardbacks I’m surprised to find how few original owners there are among them. And who is I.P. King? It looks like a boy’s writing, firmly inked in both Secret Water and The Big Six, 1947 and 1948. East Coast man? Was he some kid? £5.00 each.
And H. O’Hanlon? A bookplate, likely a girl, who pencilled Abbey Grange, Sherborne, Dorsetshire, England, underneath. Reprinted September 1944. Wait a minute. I have a cousin who tells me she now knows the Headmaster’s house at Sherborne School. And it was owned and occupied by Geoffrey, known as Jack, a Classics master. He won a scholarship at Oxford. He was awarded First Class Honours in Literae Humaniores. He was previously of Westcott House, during the most prestigious era when its pupil, Alan Turing of Enigma Code fame, was there around 1931. My copy must be from a relative, one of his three children.
Initial H. Many thanks to Watkins for the research. Priced at £39. To Elspeth, a very Happy 1939. A brand new AR for the year. No DJ. I appear on the shelves at Nigel Williams Rare Books, Cecil Court. Then, the only American copy, Great Northern?, Macmillan. AR (not Helene Curtis?) $7.50. Nice oatmeal-coloured boards. Disintegating dust jacket.
I am among good friends but I confess two horrible discoveries. Missee Lee and Timothy Pearse. I borrowed it for a train journey and never returned it. 1946, boldly inscribed. Sarita Waldron on the Thames at Marlow when our parents were friends. The Great Angler. Swallows and Amazons delinquents. I am glad to think of the TARS Librarian’s face if she read this. Especially here. Coot Club has a bookplate, 3 Ormonde Gate.
Through it all, I can barely see the horizon. The royal icing. Kate loves the smell. She opens the pages and joins the crew of Wild Cat on deck on a summer morning. Tack out of the harbour, under jib and mainsail.