HVV extends thanks to someone called baggyamy for this hot readers tip included in Saturdays Guardian Travel section: Holt Vinyl Volt, Holt, Norfolk: In this post office and record shop, you can browse the LPs while subpostmaster and proprietor Andrew Worsdale serves the queue of customers. Hell turn from selling premium bonds to talking about Graham Bond and usher you through to his back room of more vintage vinyl at great prices. 1 Cromer Road, tinyurl/n5pf36t Now of course, at risk of seeming churlish, only our beloved Grauniad would publish our name incorrectly. After all, we can hardly blame the saintly baggyamy, can we? For ours is a Vinyl Vault, not a Volt, which, according to schmoogle, is the SI of electromotive force, the difference of potential that would carry one ampere of current against one ohm (of?) resistance, just to show that I wasnt paying due attention in those interminable double physics lessons 40 years ago. In point of fact, HVV did give due consideration to incorporating the word Volt in its name, by dint of the fact that one of our fave UK pop reggae albums is One Thousand Volts of Holt by John Holt, unfortunately not of this parish. But we decided that our walk-in vault, once crammed full of enough bundles of used tenners to make even Ronnie Biggs salivate, but now chocful of exotic platters from our virtually limitless two pound range, was a better USP than the singer who managed to make even reggaefied Shirley Bassey covers sound effortlessly cool. One more bit of nit-picking: Im a sucker for groovy alliteration at the best of times, but doubt Ive ever led a discussion across the stampface counter about Graham Bond, about whom Im still getting educated. Im up for anything, especially when typing in the barcodes of the Premium Bond forms (those critters NEVER scan, ysee) but I might draw the line at Bonds penchant for black magic, leading to a grisly death under the wheels of a tube train at the age of 36. Then again, I knew there was a reason why I quit the smoke for (ultimately) the wilds of the North Norfolk Riviera... Anyway, massive thanks once again to baggyamy (whoever she may be) and see yall tomorrow for more hardcore stampface supremodom, lightened by more groovy sounds from our ever-spinning Linn. Oh, and dont bother with your insurance certificate if youre buying car tax. And no, its not because I cant be arsed or because Ive lost interest in scrutinising them, in case any locals of a curtain-twitching, UKIP persuasion have tuned in....
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 19:18:36 +0000
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