You know people who collect rubbish in their houses, terrified to let anything go lest they loose some part of themselves as well? Or the scarred limping olds who scuttle round city centers with metal shopping trolleys packed high with old plastic bags, full of “good stuff” they’ve found in bins, before finding a quiet alley to die from the cold in? Yes, you know them. They’re crazies.

Well, what happens if you’re obsession happens to be music. You obsessively store it, scared you’ll loose a single note, some of the liner notes, you make back ups in hard copy and digitally and preserve the original, in its box, away in a special room, which you call your treasure room, living in fear of Conan the Barbarian, or worse, you’re ma destroying it. Yes, we’re crazies too.

But, and here’s where you’re money comes in, what if you had the money, a specially built warehouse and the obsessive hoarding instinct? Well you end up with this. Over 3 million records, a state of the art store age facility and pressing medical costs which necessitates the sale of your beautiful baby boy. Well then, pony up the cash and lets get this lot into the analogue office. Bren‘ll never notice…

Andrew Booth is an intercontinental dandy. He is co-writing his first novel Jackdaw Fool.
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