Or
There and Back Again, a biker's tale by Tony Mansfield
My journey to the land of imagination was a far longer affair, however and had some vague planning involved in that I knew I wanted to end up at a particular place, but the specifics of how I journeyed there were very much up in the air, even as I travelled down.
A view from a service station
In the event, the journey to the coast was about 100 miles,
travelling through sun-drenched countryside that was beautiful in that genteel,
civilised way that England seems to have in abundance, with nary a motorway in
sight. One mistake I made was to pick up the A34, which had some very effective
windbreaks on either side of the road, which prevented you from seeing pretty much
anything. That was soon rectified with the help of my satnav, which did a fine
job of keeping me vaguely on track while I indulged my sense of adventure in
discovering just where this turning would take me. I love doing this, and on a
dazzling day like this, the feel of the wind on my face, the sense of joy in just
being able to enjoy the sun, and the process of the journey was, is, and
remains just amazing. With the odd break here and there to relax, it was a superb experience and one I hope to repeat.
The final part of my journey saw me travelling through part of the New Forest, which is a national park and every bit as stunning as the images you can get from Google imply. The sad part for me was that if I am going to do more of these trips (as I intend) I need a better means of recording them than my phone!
The New Forest, however, was not the land of Imagination
that was my planned destination. While I have fond memories of the book
As I was coming up to Lymington, however, it seemed that an
evil fate had it in for me, or perhaps it was the ghost of Yellow Peril (see
previous stories for some of that) reaching out from beyond the grave for one
last reminder of times long ago. My Satnav ran out of power even though it was
supposed to be charged by my lovely bike and not reliant on its battery! The
ghost of evil laughter echoed in my head…
This meant that the last part of the journey was rather
fraught, navigating through an unknown and really quite busy town. I was,
however, rescued by the very thoughtful provision of motorcycle parking spaces
in the High Street. From there, I was able to make my way on foot to the Land
of Imagination. But first, I took the time for a quick walk around the town and
did a bit of research.
I did see a lot of Victorian and Georgian architecture in the town centre, and some fine cobbled streets around the quay. I really enjoyed looking around this beautiful town. It’s well worth a visit for its own sake, and in the words of the Film Star, ‘I’ll be back’.
However, having had that bit of a wander round town, it was
at last time to find an end to
the first part of my journey, the Land of
Imagination. The Land of Imagination is, as some of you may have gathered, an
independent bookshop called The Imaginarium.
I've been following the saga of the Imaginarium ever since I
came across it on Facebook, and I had been determined to visit here for a long
time. My bout with Part 1 of the Big C had prevented the visit, but today was
the day. The journey here was, by the way, the longest ride I’d done since
Autumn last year, though I’d had a few training runs, one ending up in
Berkhamsted Castle (which I’ll write up another time).
Those of you who know me a little will understand why I take
an interest in quirky, independent stores, having owned and run one for 10
years or thereabouts, back in the day. Running
an independent store of any sort is very hard work at the best of times, and
running a specialist independent bookstore is one of the hardest, given the
general dominance of internet-based retailers and the internet-savvy nature of
the customer base. Seeing one thrive like this was, and remains, an absolute
joy. My anticipation grew.
Well, the subject of my interest was not far away, and at
last, I walked around a corner, took a short walk further, and this is what
greeted me.
Not the Castle AAARRRGGHHH!! But…my quest was at an end.
Well, the first part was at least.
Finding a place that specialised in books of this ilk (that’s not in London, Oxford or a Forbidden Planet) was the most wonderful and being able to walk inside was delightful, as you’ll see below.
An absolute cornucopia of magical tomes awaited me, from ‘mere’ novels to magnum opus (opi?) which rivalled War and Peace in sheer size, with everything in between represented in considerable depth. I saw old friends, and gateways to new worlds I’d never seen before. In short, everything I could have asked for from a visit to a fantasy bookshop.
However, I got rather more than this. I got to talk to
Robyn, the bookshop owner, and I found that the shop had survived and was even thriving, thanks to the support it had from a community that really wanted it to
be there. She talked freely about the seven book clubs they supported, the hard
work they did every day, and how much of a joy the work was, however long the
hours were.
I also met a few of the customers who frequented this realm
where imagination ruled, and they suited the shop to a tee, real characters who
added considerably to my day.
Of course, no visit to a real bookshop would be complete without coming away with at least one book, and this was my haul, thanks to some strong recommendations from Robyn, who knows a great deal about her subject and recommended some books I would never have thought to try, had I been left to my own devices. One small caveat. The Sherlock Holmes hardcover comes from another of my favourite bookshops, Chapter 2 in Chesham, which will take part in one of my stories soon.
I am enjoying the first of those recommendations right now,
having finished the book I was on, and I have to say this was a fine choice of
Robyn’s!
While I didn’t want to leave, it was sadly time. I had a
long journey ahead of me, but there was time for a swift break in the Ice Cream
shop next door. Oh dear, how sad, never mind!
Before I left, however, I did ask Robyn where the name ‘The
Imaginarium’ came from; it’s not, as you might think, derived from the film,
The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus, but I
will leave her to tell you the story when you go down and visit yourself. It’s
so very much worth your time and effort.
So at last, with a day of fine memories behind me, it was time to head
home. Without the aid of the Satnav I had to take a far more straightforward
route home than I took coming down, and time was getting on, but that didn’t
mean that the journey wasn’t without its merits. I arrived in Wycombe, after
suitable breaks, just as the sun was setting, a fitting end to a highly
enjoyable day.
Reflections
Like all of us, I don’t know how many more days like this I
have left. It added a special aura to the journey, and I’ll remember this day
for a very long time. For the record, I intend to be around to enjoy a lot more
days like this and will visit the Land of Imagination many times. This visit reminded me very strongly of all
the things places like this do to enrich people's lives, and of a time in my
own life when turning up to work every day was an absolute pleasure. I hope I
was able to do something similar for all the people who visited my own shop, back
in the day.
Go visit the Imaginarium. I strongly feel that both of you
who read my stories will love it. And, by the way, they do mail order. That’s a
hint, by the way
https://www.imaginariumbooks.co.uk/
