I've been working on the cash registers, all the livelong day. I got worried when I realized that register work left me with black marks on my hands that would not wash off. My colleague Sarah reassured me:

"That's ink from the register tape [receipts]. Comes off with nail polish remover. Back when I worked the register every day, I always had a black mark on my thumb from where I ripped off the receipt. I always thought that if I dropped dead in the street, the police would know I was a cashier."

Thanks to Zack for pointing to a George Orwell site that contained "Bookshop Memories". In a rather low-key way, I hope, I've been following in the footsteps of Orwell and other writers in working blue-collar jobs and soaking in observation. And -- as I should have guessed from Keep the Aspidistra Flying -- Orwell once worked in a bookstore!

Many of the people who came to us were of the kind who would be a nuisance anywhere but have special opportunities in a bookshop. For example, the dear old lady who �wants a book for an invalid� (a very common demand, that), and the other dear old lady who read such a nice book in 1897 and wonders whether you can find her a copy. Unfortunately she doesn�t remember the title or the author�s name or what the book was about, but she does remember that it had a red cover.