Watkins Books ...

I have always had a fondness for bookshops, especially those specializing in arcane lore -

I can remember, when I was living in Winchester, reading Colin Wilson's study of the Occult - I treasured this fat paperback, with its hints of dark knowledge and secret worlds - I devoured the chapters about poltergeists and astral travel - I imagined meeting Gurdjieff -

Annick introduced me to a man who'd painted his bedsit black - he looked out for UFO's, circling Saint Catherine's Hill - upon his window sill was a creased and annotated copy of Wilson's volume - he divined our futures, but with coins, rather than yarrow stalks -

Last weekend, I browsed strange volumes in Watkins Books - I was walking through Cecil Court, off Charing Cross Road, and came across the shop by chance - as I lingered by the doorway, it suddenly began to rain, icy raindrops, dancing upon my neck -

Once inside, out of the rain, I looked with delight at a grimoire illustrated by Austin Spare - I picked up a densely written, unsettling, study by Kenneth Grant, all about inter dimensional intelligences - 

There were two floors of books, all full of mystery and wonder - I could have stayed here for hours - but the rain stopped - I had to move on -

Outside, a tour guide was telling her gang of Americans that this street was a haunt of - I did not catch the name - some writer, I think -

It started to rain again - I wished I had an umbrella, even a fold up one - I hurried on, lugging my wheeled suitcase -