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Thread: Book Collection : jonp

  1. #4051
    Guardian of the Beam Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack people like to rub elbows with me Hunchback Jack's Avatar

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    That Doctor Sleep proof is darn pretty. Congrats, Jon.
    “If you don't know what you want," the doorman said, "you end up with a lot you don't.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

    Looking for SubPress Lettered::
    Angel's Game and Prisoner of Heaven (Zafon)
    Ilium (Simmons)

  2. #4052
    Demon of the Prim Priest is a name known to all Priest is a name known to all Priest is a name known to all Priest is a name known to all Priest is a name known to all Priest is a name known to all Priest's Avatar

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    174 is a pretty impressive count... congrats!

  3. #4053
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Hunchback Jack View Post
    That Doctor Sleep proof is darn pretty. Congrats, Jon.
    Thanks Peter. Yes, it's a nice looking proof, but one I found difficult to find (at least in a good condition).

    Quote Originally Posted by Priest View Post
    174 is a pretty impressive count... congrats!
    Thank Sebastian.

  4. #4054
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    I never finished my RPWs and I never seem to have the time anymore to post the remaining proofs. I am hardly collecting anymore. I am now selling rather than buying. Having said that I do have a new proof on the way.

    These are the remaining proofs and manuscripts that I have not posted, just to round things out.

    Proof #175 - Stephen King / Owen King - US CD Edition Interoffice Advance Uncorrected Proof


  5. #4055
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Another CD proof

    Proof #176 - Stephen King - Full Dark, No Stars - US CD Edition Interoffice Advance Uncorrected Proof


  6. #4056
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #177 - Stephen King - Dreamcatcher - US Advance Uncorrected Manuscript Proof




  7. #4057
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    This one has seen better days, but at least I have a copy now. They don't come up that often.

    Proof #178 - Stephen King - The Stand (Complete And Uncut) - UK Advance Uncorrected Full Proof - Signed by Stephen King




  8. #4058
    Gunslinger Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861 seldom gets put on hold Brian861's Avatar

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    Very nice, Jon and great to hear from you! It's been too long! Hope you are well.
    You don't know my kind.....You don't my mind.....Dark necessities are part of my design.....

  9. #4059
    Gunslinger herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest has a reputation beyond repute herbertwest's Avatar

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    Wow, jon, it's a shame to see that you are selling rather than collecting anymore !

    Can I ask what you are selling and what you still collect at the moment?
    Thanks
    ------------------------------------------------
    CLUB STEPHEN KING (french website about STEPHEN KING, since 1992) : on : Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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  10. #4060
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #179 - Stephen King - Blaze - US Advance Uncorrected Manuscript Proof - Tan Proof with $24.00 Price



    All four known Blaze Proofs


  11. #4061
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #180 - Stephen King - Misery - US Advance Uncorrected Suntup Press Proof with Publishers Letter




  12. #4062
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #181 - Stephen King - Full Dark, No Stars - US Advance Uncorrected White Taped Spine Proof with Publishers Letter


  13. #4063
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #182 - Stephen King - Desperation - US Advance Uncorrected 2-volume Comb-bound Manuscript with Printed Spines




  14. #4064
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #183 - Stephen King - The Green Mile: Part I - The Two Dead Girls - US Advance Uncorrected Internal Unbound Manuscript - One Known Copy?




  15. #4065
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Proof #184 - Stephen King - The Tommyknockers - US Advance Uncorrected Flat bound 2-volume Manuscript


  16. #4066
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    This version of the manuscript has significant changes from the final book. There has been significant reordering of the scenes to avoid 'flashbacks'. See a rewritten / deleted scene below.

    Proof #185 - Stephen King - Misery - US Advance Uncorrected Book Of The Month Club Inc. Submission Manuscript






    Printed in raised and slightly ink-stained metal on the head of the key was:

    E
    e

    The old Royal had thrown the ‘t’ on the first of June, and that was bad enough; now, just to add to the fun, it had thrown the most frequently used letter in the English language.
    Paul looked at the calendar. The boy who had been riding a sled down a snowy hillside in February was cavorting in the waves at some beach in this picture—at least Paul thought it was the same boy; the kid had been so bundled up in the earlier picture that it was hard to tell for sure. According to the calendar it was now July, but Paul didn’t know if it still was or not. It might be august. In fact, when you got right down to it, all he knew for sure was that it was still full light at five o’clock in the afternoon, and hotter than the hinges of hell, so it was summer.
    Roll out those lazy hazy crazy days of summer, he thought sourly, and threw the key-hammer in the general direction of the wastebasket.
    He had kept track of the days pretty well until June 25th, which was the day Annie had cut off the thumb of his left hand. He had picked the wrong day to start complaining about the Royal and its missing ‘n’.’ Well, if it bothers you so much, I’ll just have to give you something else to think about, Paul. Something to take your mind off that old ‘n.’ He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, throwing things, cursing in her strange Annie Wilkes language. Ten minutes later she came in with an electric knife. Paul began to scream at once. He was, in a way, like Pavlov’s dogs. When Pavlov rang a bell, the dogs salivated. When Annie came into the guest bedroom with a sharp cutting object, Paul began to scream. She plugged the knife into the outlet by his wheelchair and there had been more pleading and more screaming and more promises that he would be good and in the end of course there had been more blood as well. Because when Annie decided on a course of action, she carried it through. Annie was not swayed by pleas. Annie was not swayed by screams. Annie had the courage of her convictions.
    As the humming, vibrating blade sank into the soft web of flesh between the soon-to-be-defunct thumb and his first finger, she assured him again in her this-hurts-mother-more-than-it-hurts-Paulie voice that she loved him.
    Then, that night…
    But he wouldn’t think about that.
    Following the amputation of his thumb there had been a dim period of indeterminate length. In that period he had lost track of time and now had no real urge to recapture it.
    I’ve gotten as bad as she is, he thought. Maybe even worse.
    His mind returned wearily: So what?
    He hit the space bar four times, rapidly, and typed: OH FUCK LOOK A HIS! He pulled the paper out of the typewriter—the typewriter made a harsh, ratcheting sound of protest—balled the sheet up, and tossed it across the room. It bounced off the wall above the wastebasket and fell in—two points!—atop a number of other balls of paper. At first he had done pretty well with the book following the loss of his foot—during what Annie so mincingly called his “convalescent period.” He supposed it was that escape thing again, because the pain had been really dreadful, and when the healing process finally did begin, he thought that the “phantom itch” of the foot which was no longer there was even worse. It was the arch that really bothered him. He awoke time after time in the middle of the night using the big toe of his right foot to scratch thin air nine inches below the place where, on that side, his body now ended.
    The wastepaper balls had begun to proliferate the day the ‘t’ had broken off. Before that, when there was just the missing ‘n’ to contend with, the clacking voice of the typewriter had been bad: tap-tap-tap-taptap-clack!-tap-clack!-tappedy-tappedy-taptap-clack!-tap. Following the loss of the ‘t’, the sound and rhythm grew even more irritating: tap-clack!-taptap-clack!clack!-tappedy-clack!-tap-tap. Somehow the sound of the clacks, the sound of those vacancies—even his anticipation of the sound—was inhibiting him, disturbing the dream, whittling away the circumference of that hole in the paper through which he saw. Once—he would have sworn it was so!—that hole had been as big as the bore of the Lincoln tunnel. Now it was no more than the size of a knothole through which a sidewalk superintendent might snoop on an interesting piece of building construction. You had to peer and crane to see anything at all, and more often than not the really important things happened outside your field of vision…not surprising, considering the field of vision was so small.
    In practical terms, what had happened was obvious. The language of the book had grown florid and overblown again—it was not self-parody yet, not quite, but it was floating in that direction. Continuity lapses had begun to proliferate with the stealth of rabbits breeding in cellar corners…for a space of thirty pages, the Baron had become the Viscount from Misery’s Quest. He’d had to go back and tear that all out.
    It doesn’t matter, Paul. The damned thing is almost done. So it was. Working on it was torture, and finishing it was going to mean the end of his life. That the latter had begun to look slightly more attractive than the former said all that probably needed to be said about the worsening state of his body, mind, and spirit. Yet the book had moved on in spite of those things, seemingly independent of them. The continuity drops were annoying but minor. He was having no more problem with the actual make-believe than he ever had—he was still playing the game of Can You? In spite of all the terrible things Annie had subjected him to, and playing it quite well. The plot was melodramatic but well constructed, in its own modest way quite amusing; if it were ever published in something other than the severely limited Annie Wilkes Edition of one typewritten copy, he guessed it might sell a couple of hundred thousand copies in hardcover, a couple of million in soft. The story was fine. But now….
    He looked at the broken key-hammer lying on the floor by the wastebasket. It was so small he could barely see it. It was, in a way, like a person’s foot or thumb; it only became an object of pain and concern when it was gone. When it left a hole.
    He closed his eyes and could see the way the last line he had written—if you didn’t count OH FUCK LOOK A HIS!, that was—had looked on the page. For a mom h hr of h m, the sentence had begun. Christ, you’d almost have to be a cryptographer to figure out what it was supposed to say: For a moment the three of them, etc., etc.
    It was his writing which was suffering, and in spite of the terrible physical and mental shape he was in, it really did seem to be more the fault of his tool than his talent. Filling in the ‘n’s’ had been annoying, but that was all it had been—just scut-work. When the ‘t’ went AWOL, however, the situation had been subtly changed—what had been as simple (if as drudging) as sawing wood or washing dishes had become weirdly anticreative. He found himself having to literally reconstruct some sentences, where there seemed to be more blanks than letters, almost from scratch.
    And now, with the ‘e’ gone…
    He thought: Welcome, Paulie! Welcome to the world of “For a mom h ree of h m” and etc., etc. Won’t this be more fun than human beings should be allowed to have?
    He began to reach for a fresh sheet of paper, and then his hand fell back.
    Ask her for another typewriter again, why don’t you? Maybe she’ll cut off your right thumb and even up your hands again.
    “No, I don’t think so,” he said aloud.
    The sound of the mower had been growing and now she drove by his window, raised one gloved hand to him but not slowing. He automatically raised his thumbless left hand in a return salute. She was wearing a white man’s t-shirt and a pair of tight faded jeans—her ass looked so huge in jeans that it was almost like seeing a hallucination. Her eyes and broad forehead were shaded by a baseball cap with the word CASE written above the bill. Just lately Annie had been as happy as a pig in a wallow. Paul Sheldon was grateful for this, but not at all fooled. The pendulum would swing. It always did.
    He reached for the paper again and again his hand fell back. He sighed. It was the sigh of a deeply and fundamentally tired man.
    It wasn’t just the ‘n,’ the ‘t,’ or even, now, the ‘e.’ It wasn’t being almost done and knowing she would kill him shortly afterward. The fact was, she wouldn’t have much to kill when she final got down to business.
    “I’m dying,” he said, with no awareness at all that he had spoken—it seemed just an idea in his idea. “I’m dying and it plays hell with your fucking creativity.”
    The man sitting here today in Annie’s guest-room, dressed only in his gray and sweat-soaked underpants, bore little resemblance to the man who had started off from the Boulderado Hotel last February, tiddly on champagne and even more tiddly on the unique feeling of triumph that he always knew when he had at last, against what felt like suicidally steep odds, finished the book. He thought that feeling must be a little like that felt by shipwrecked sailors who, after weeks or months cast adrift in a small and frail boat, at last sight land just after the last of the food and water has run out.
    The man who had driven out of boulder had been a broad-shouldered fellow with a bit of a pot belly from too much beer on weeknights and a bit too much gin on weekend afternoons, a fellow with good color and confident blue eyes. He had not been exactly handsome, that earlier draft of Paul Sheldon, and yet there had been a magnetism about him which turned womens’ heads. He supposed some of the head-turning was causing by the fragile bubble of fame; some by the fact that the Misery books had earned buckets of money (although very few of the many who knew that would have known how many of said buckets had gone to the two ex-wives). Yet he suspected that most of it was due only to that look of confidence. I know what I’m doing, his eyes said, not in an aggressive way that added So don’t make me prove it!, but in a casual way that said this was a matter taken for granted in his own private self.
    These days when Annie rolled him into the bathroom and helped him himself into the tub, he saw a different man altogether if he chanced to look in the mirror over the wash-stand…and although he tried, after the first time, not to look, this second-draft version of Paul Sheldon held a certain undeniable situation.
    Was it a man? No…not really. Not anymore. Just a creature—a cringing gray rabbit who looked a little like a man, as very large horseshoe rabbits sometimes look like small children if you catch them fleeing across a meadow out of the corner of your eye.
    A gray rabbit. The amputation of his foot had not killed him—not quite—but it had leached away the last of his ruddy skin-tones and his weight had dropped from a hundred and eighty to a hundred and forty-five. Maybe less. His pot-belly was still there, but it was no longer a tight little thing below his sternum; now it drooped like a sac. His hands sometimes shook. He had occasional heart palpitations and frequent diaherra.
    His eyes were the worst. They had been driven deep into sockets ringed with gray, wrinkled skin. They were the eyes of a man of sixty, a man who has never given himself a rest, a man who has flogged himself into a pair of ulcers, hypertension, incipient collapse. The look of confidence, casual or otherwise, was gone. His eyes were still begging what he had begged her in the last few nightmare moments before she had chopped his foot off: Don’t hurt me, please, Annie, I’ll be good, only don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.
    Your own mother might know you if you were still alive, but that’s all, he thought. All the rest of them—Joan, Margaret, Billy Ho down at the Piece of Work Pub in Soho, Alan, Peggy Stanhouse, Rich, Bryce—they’d just take a look at you and think, “ugh, look at that poor old man,” and pass you by.
    Well…just possibly Bryce Bell might be the exception which proved the rule. A little smile touched Paul’s mouth. Bryce might still smell money—or the ghost of it—drifting from Paul’s pores and yell: Paul! Honey! Where the fuck you been? How’s the pages? You getting any good pages?
    The grave was marked with a wooden cross. It belonged to one of the Bossies—Paul didn’t know if it was 1 or 2. His visions of mixed blood and milk on the barn floor had apparently not been so morbidly far-fetched as he had tried to tell himself; the Bossy had died not long after Paul had lost his foot. Annie had dug the cow-sized grave herself, taking a whole day to do it. Near dusk she had dragged the Gurnsey out the barn by the ears and rolled her into the hole. Annie had been sobbing loudly as she did it, and once the cow was in the hole, she had fallen on her knees and prayed for nearly two hours, pausing every now and then to read selected verses from her New Testament. Paul remembered watching all of this with the dull concentrate of a man who has been severely wounded and who may or ‘may not be near death. By that point, the sight of Annie reading the Apostles’ creed over the grave of a cow with tears streaming down her thick cheeks had seemed the very least of her eccentricities.
    Now he looked at the typewriter again.
    You better get going, Paulie. You’re her prize cow now, and she’s going to be in soon to see if you’re giving any milk. So you better get going.
    He was reaching for the pile of blank paper again when the Colorado State Police cruiser turned into Annie’s driveway, its whip antenna bouncing back and forth and casting a bright sparkle of westering sunlight into his eyes.


    5


    At first he froze—and froze was exactly the right word. He felt as if he had been packed in ice. He wanted to open his mouth and couldn’t. He wanted to raise his hands and couldn’t. A horrible moaning sound passed between his closed lips and his hands made light, haphazard drumming sounds on either side of the royal, but at first that was all he could do. Nothing which had gone before—except perhaps for the moment when he had realized that his left leg was moving but his left was staying put—was as terrible as the hell of this mobility. In real time it did not last long; perhaps ten seconds and surely no longer than fifteen. But inside Paul Sheldon’s head it seemed to go on for years.

  17. #4067
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    I never knew this one existed until recently. This is the only copy I know of...is that correct?

    Proof #186 - Richard Bachman / Stephen King - Thinner - UK Advance Uncorrected Unbound Manuscript Proof




  18. #4068
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    This is another one never knew this one existed until recently. There are only two known copies.

    Proof #187 - Stephen King - The Dark Tower V: Wolves Of The Calla - US Advance Uncorrected Black Taped Spine Proof


  19. #4069
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    I haven't looked at this one closely, but does have a few deleted scenes.

    Proof #188 - Stephen King - IT - US Advance Uncorrected 3-volume Comb-bound Internal Manuscript




  20. #4070
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Two more - probably my favourite proofs - these are two extremely rare UK proofs. Firstly...

    Proof #189 - Stephen King - Hearts In Atlantis - UK Advance Uncorrected 1st State Proof with Publishers Letter






  21. #4071
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Secondly...and last one for now.

    Proof #190 - Stephen King - Bag Of Bones - UK Advance Uncorrected 1st State Slipcased Proof with Launch Party Invitation





    All three UK States of Bag Of Bones



    and the US ones


  22. #4072
    Weedeater jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp is a splendid one to behold jonp's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Brian861 View Post
    Very nice, Jon and great to hear from you! It's been too long! Hope you are well.
    Thanks Brian. I'm fine, thank you, I hope you are as well. Yes, it's been awhile.

    Quote Originally Posted by herbertwest View Post
    Wow, jon, it's a shame to see that you are selling rather than collecting anymore !

    Can I ask what you are selling and what you still collect at the moment?
    Thanks
    Thanks Jeremy. I'm only collecting UK 1sts and the new proof releases from now on. I'm selling / or have sold all gift, limiteds and lettereds.

  23. #4073
    Honky Mahfah biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future

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    Jon, great to see you posting again. Quite a few magnificent items there, congratulations! I especially love the light blue UK HIA and UK BoB trifecta. Superb!

  24. #4074
    Honky Mahfah biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future biomieg has a brilliant future

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    PS please do post a couple of proof shelf pics if you can.

  25. #4075
    Servant of Gan Roog has a spectacular aura about Roog has a spectacular aura about Roog's Avatar

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    Wonderful and rare pieces again, Jon, congrats! Please don't stop collecting proofs

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