Foyles

Eldest and I caught the bus into London yesterday. (Isn't it strange how natural that sounds, yet it is actually quite weird; we live in London - what I mean of course is we went into the centre of the city, but you wouldn't say that.  You might say  'we went into town' but again that makes it sounds as if it is a different, separate place.  Which I suppose it is, by comparison with Nunhead).  We'd decided to hang around and browse the big bookshops now that his A Level exams were over.

Once, when I was at University,  I had a summer job working in Foyles.  Well, twice actually - which was very rare.  When you applied for a job, and were called to the shop to see how you measured up, one of the tests you had to sit was a brief interview with Christina Foyle herself.  At that stage she was quite elderly (she must have been 65 when I first met her), and blue-rinsed, but she ran Foyles like a martinet and paid attention to every small detail. 

An abiding fear was theft - which is why for many years Foyles was organised on ridiculously inefficient lines, requiring customers to queue three times to buy a book.  Once at the counter to get the order chit (leaving your order behind to be bagged), once at the cash desk to pay - and to get the chit officially stamped, and then once again back at the desk to show your chit and pick up your purchase. The theory seemed to be that it kept the money away from the serving staff on the shop floor.

This was still happening in the late 1970s.

Anyway, Christina asked each applicant what they liked to read, what sort of books they were interested in, and then made sure they were never put any where near that department!  Again, it seemed that if you had no interest in the subject of the books you were selling, you wouldn't steal them. 

I got lucky - when she asked me what I liked, I said something like 'any fiction, really', and as a result  (after a brief sojourn in a book packing department servicing libraries), I was placed squarely in the Maths and Physics department.  Which was handy really, as that was what I was about to go and read at University!

I thus spent a very pleasant two months in the long hot summer of 1976 cycling into town (there, that phrase is again) and selling books I was very interested in, working for a mad Finnish woman called Lillian who cared lots for her commission but not a lot for the subject matter she was responsible for, and was very happy to have me.  For the record, I never stole a book - but I will admit that a lot of the publishers' reps found me remainders and damaged copies to help fill up my booklist...

That was also the summer of the Queen concert in Hyde Park.  I had to fight to get the time off - it was 'our busiest day of the year' - but I had some support from the middle managers who liked me and Tony Foyle - Christina's relatively sensible nephew. 

The concert was great, and I really enjoyed working in Foyles - there was a whole group of us waiting for A Level resultsat the same time.  A year or so later I went back for a second summer job between years - Christina was still there, and still interviewing - I remembered to say I liked something apart from my subjects... and then:

'Have you worked for us before?'

'No, not at all.'

'Hmmm.... OK, then...' 

Christina never liked casual workers to come back, for fear they'd know the ropes... And might steal stuff...

Of course several other people did remember me - but no-one told the boss.

Overall, that was a less happy experience.  I got moved around the departments a lot (presumably because I knew a bit about the business), and didn't have a chance to settle anywhere.  It was also a period when the staff were trying to unionise against the firm's wishes;  there were several sackings that summer. 

Once I left I decided not to use the shop if I could avoid it, as all of the disputes had left a rather sour taste.

Still, on Saturday last, when our bus stopped just outside the building, I thought 'What the Hell.  Things must have changed by now...'

And they had.  It's now a smashing bright and airy bookshop, with properly labelled shelves, and the stock is stored according to content, not publisher (always a bugbear in the past).  The cash desks have been swept away (probably long ago) and the staff use regular tills.  The old open ironwork central stairs and lift have been upgraded.  The departments have been completely changed around and reorganised.

Eldest was interested in the IT section so we went to the first floor, to find a very well-stocked Maths, Physics and IT section.

This was very good indeed.  Proper serious books, not afraid to spray around the integral sign. 

(Harummppph).

About an hour later, after browsing a lot and buying very little we decided we needed refreshment and headed for 'Ray's Jazz cafe' on the same floor in the shop.  Very nice.  Good food (cakes in our case) and drink, with background jazz.

And then it hit me - from the shape of the room, the location of the steps in, and the windows.  This was the old Maths and Physics department.  I'd worked for weeks and weeks and weeks in this room.

It was different (no book stacks, just low tables; a smell of filter coffee and toasted cheese), and the same (the same physical space, the light, the view onto Charing Cross Road outside). 

I found it quite an unsettling experience - in some ways I'm still coming to terms with it.

Other memories of Foyles.  The tunnel between the two buildings (before the smaller one was sold off) that was often used by the security staff, to go and surprise shoplifters.  The cameraderie in the Pillars of Hercules (nearest pub) after work.  The sweaty focus on commission.

Sigh.  I'd thought it was all long ago and that the memories had been put safely away.  But clearly not.