On another note, I think that there is an individual in Richmond who shares my (fairly particular) tastes in literature. I think this person is probably more generous than I am, though. In Oxfam's window is a first-edition of B.S. Johnson's The Unfortunates, priced at just under fifty pounds, and looking absolutely exquisite. More importantly, and pleasingly, I picked up a copy of Basil Bunting's Briggflatts for one ninety-nine, meaning I now have a copy that I can write on.
In other literary news, I finished Snow, read David Peace's 1974, snoozed my way through J.G. Ballard's Kingdom Come and am now tackling some early W.S. Graham poems before some more Derek Raymond. Once again, I'll address these matters with more erudition when I'm feeling less grumpy about the idea of writing.