This is my favourite way to spend a relaxing Saturday afternoon, says Herald columnist Rosemary Goring

A friend who owns a bookshop has lost count of the number of readers who have poked their heads around the door, breathed deep, and told her how much they love the smell. Sad to report, they rarely buy anything. If only she could sell them bottled bookshop air, she sighs, she would be on her way to a fortune. She’s right to find such gushers irksome, since they do nothing to help pay the bills. Yet I have to admit that I am one of that dewy-eyed brigade who like nothing better than to find ourselves amid aisles of books, where the air is rich with eau de paper and ink. And while it’s not the aroma that draws me in, it does make buying a book even more of a pleasure. After all, would the experience be as enjoyable if the place smelled like the public swimming baths?

The reason many of us find this scent irresistible – Dior please take note - is what it represents. And, for me at least, the memories it evokes. Saturday afternoons, when I was a student or in my twenties, were never complete without an hour or two ferreting out something tempting to read in the best bookshops in town. Those titles are still on my shelves, allowing me to recall when they were bought and the contentment they brought.

Now, as then, such shops offer a very particular kind of haven, one that feels increasingly necessary as the world speeds up and more time is spent peering at a screen and scrolling through socials than sinking into the depths of a long and satisfying read. Today being National Bookshop Day, independents across the UK........

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