The Owl Story Bookstore

When I’m not working or going to yoga classes, one of my favourite places is the local English bookstore in Lagos. I’ve mentioned the slightly crazy Scottish guy, Ian, who runs it, in past blog entries; well the more time I spend with him, the more I realize is the best friend I have here. An unlikely combination: he’s 15 or so years older than me, has a very opinionated, harsh Scottish demeanour borne from past military service. However it is front, for he’s a really stand-up fellow who’s just not scared to speak his mind. He’s not afraid to torment or insult his customers. In fact, the one’s that have a backbone and take it in stride are his favourites (I believe I must have passed that test somewhere along the lines, but being me, I didn’t even notice).
He has some great stories to tell about all his past exploits in the restaurant game – he should write a book, as he certainly doesn’t read them!
But he does well enough, and enjoys the human interaction. He’s as gentle as could be to the younger, less ‘worldly’ of his clientele. But we certainly enjoy some light-hearted word-play with those who can play the game.
And he sound rather sound – if questionable – business practices, which are all about pleasing himself. If a customer says something he doesn’t like, he let’s them know. Or kicks them out. Rudely. His thinking is that leaves more books for those he wants to have buy them. And anyone that person tells about their bad experience will either be more undesirables, or will be just intrigued enough to check out this peculiar bookstore!.
In fact he recently shared an email discussion with one such malcontent that ended with Ian telling him to ‘piss off – goodbye’. However he then declared the guys wouldn’t dare write back. I bet him lunch that the guy would write back (if he didn’t, it would just even the score anyway, as Ian had shouted me a lunch earlier that week…while he just drank beers). For two days I was fielding cocky comments about his impending payback until I got the text that admits the guy couldn’t resist biting back with one more retort.
So last Saturday I was in the store near his closing hour (early on a Saturday, conveniently), and he sent me around the corner for beers. So here we were, kicking back in a friendly little bookstore putting away a couple of pints. And then come closing time, he surprised me further by rolling a spliff before heading over to café for a delicious burger – yum!
I think that cemented it, as we had a couple of beers in the store again today, and I’m taking his wife into Portimao to do some shopping tomorrow morning (they don’t drive). And I believe I’ve mentioned he’s insisted I’m no longer allowed to buy any books at the store anymore – I just take what I want!