On Friday afternoons at Middle Street School, our headmaster would smoke his pipe and do a general knowledge quiz with us.
I liked the sweet smell of his pipe smoke (this was the 1970s) and of success: I was good at quizzes.
“It’s not fair, Miss. Alex has got books!” complained a classmate to our teacher.
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“What did your parents do?”
I say, “My mother was a second-hand book dealer.”
“Did she have a little shop?”
No, she sold books by post in brown paper parcels tied up with string from various rented flats in Brighton. Books are heavy, so moving was always a bit of a struggle.
Her entry in the trade directory read “Established 1968. Private premises; postal business only. Very small stock second-hand and antiquarian books. Speciality: gardening. Catalogues on gardening: 4 a year.”
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Alex White writes 