My wife put it in her usual succinct way: ‘Why do you want to write a book about such a sleazeball?’ I couldn’t really say. The late Richard Booth, second-hand bookseller and former self-crowned king of Hay-on-Wye, was not instantly lovable. Some found him the essence of unlovability. He was scruffy, disorganised, egocentric, impetuous, hopeless with money and capricious. At times he was rude, promiscuous, bad-tempered, small-minded, boring, bombastic, unscrupulous and unaware of the upset he could cause.

Yet most of his staff – those who survived the whim of iron – loved him for his good heart, his childlike enthusiasm, his humour, ingenuousness, irreverence, shyness and kindness. He created the book mecca that is Hay, which straddles the Powys–Hereford border and remains home to more th

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