Why didn't I pick up more Penguins?

I heard a wonderful program about the founder of Penguin Books this morning on Radio 4, and how these iconic paperbacks took off.

When I got home I fetched my collection of very old Penguins for a photo. I love that the friendly little Penguins evolve over the years.

The H.G Wells copy (at one shilling) of The New Machiavelli is one of: 'A uniform set of ten volumes of Mr Well's works specially published in commemoration of his eightieth birthday, September 21st 1946.
Of each volume one hundred thousand copies have been printed'.

There are so many good books in this random cluster. And it is random, this is why.

I was lucky to have found them in a room full of books when one of our second hand bookshops was turning into an art gallery.

I managed to climb through and over the piles of books to a high tower of orange Penguins. It was almost as high as my shoulder. ( I am 5'7")

I wanted them all, but could not afford them.

The owner came up to me and said I could take as many as I wanted, for free. I was stunned with surprise and book greed.

But I could not be too greedy. I took this group in a supermarket bag, though I longed to fill at least two more bags full.
I was told a dealer was coming over to pick up the whole lot.

Three days later I went back. The room was emoty, the painters were whitening the space.

Had the dealer taken them all I asked. No. He had not. They had lost patience and they had all gone for land fill.

I don't often use this expression, but I was gutted.

I think that was the day one of my manners died a death. I would never walk away from dozens of free penguins again. I would not care how greedy I looked. I would go for it.


I think they all came from the same collection. There are a few notes in them, and the bookmark, from a shop in Turkey.