There's a sparrow living in the bookshop.

I noticed it today when it was scared off the 2-for-$1 table by an avid rummager. It fluttered away and scrabbled onto a shelf.

It's small and very still - not hoppy-skippy-perky like other sparrows. At first I thought it was terrified, but it doesn't seem to be. Not any more than the usual low-grade fear with which life proceeds, at least.

It has trouble flying, judging heights and distances, and it's not very good at landing. It flew in after a little jaunt outside this afternoon, and missed the new release shelves only to bump into the bunting around one of the tables. It fluttered and slithered and hid underneath it. It's nice and cool and dark in there. Good for sparrows.

Di told me then about how it gets in the way in the morning, when she has to roll out the tables for display outside.

We don't feed it, or look after it. I think it just likes having a space away from the other birds.

I know how it feels.