This book could have been written for me. Bassett is a Paddy Leigh Fermor type, incredibly posh, incredibly intelligent with oodles of self-confidence and an incredible contact network that opens doors all over Europe that would remain firmly closed to mortals. He starts as a Horn player in Ljubljana and somehow becomes The Times' correspondent for Central Europe. What is most interesting is how much the Europe he inhabits in the '80s is still so Habsburg. the architecture, the uniforms, the culture. Perhaps he is looking for it, but he seems to find it everywhere, and spends a great deal of time in the company of those last remaining aristos that were awarded medals by Franz Josef or wore the uniform of an Uhlan.
This book was purchased on my annual day of indulgence while the car is being serviced and MOT'd. I took the train from Walton into town, and spent the whole day browsing bookshops for things I could have bought online in a few seconds and much cheaper. I planned to limit myself to one book per shop, but nah. Daunt Books, Hatchard's, Waterstone's Piccadilly (Simpsons as was), Foyle's and finally Stanford's. Stanford's new shop is much smaller and not nearly as nice, so it may drop off my list. The others remain as lovely as ever, and with any more time I would have gone on to Dillon's and the LRB Bookshop.
Also managed my first fanboy visit to the Algerian Coffee Stores, who have been sending me my coffee via post for over a decade now. I was too embarrassed to say anything to the staff, who wouldn't have a clue who I am anyway.
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