I got a lovely new monitor this evening courtesy of Dave.
The first thing I did was a bit of catching up with the Flickr contacts where I saw that Ganching has been uploading photographs of her bookcase for friends & family only viewing. It’s understandable she’d want to keep this private as you wouldn’t want any oul Paudie, Pearse or Billy gomeying at the dross that gathers up on the oul bookshelves.
As you’d expect Mr Bolan was straight in there taunting her about only having the one bookcase (he’ll be here too arguing in his customary pedantic fashion that he meant something else altogether so come on then Mr Bolan if you think you’re hard enough!) but anyways to get back to Ganching’s bookshelves she soon put him right by telling him that this was only one of her five bookshelves. And judging by the tasteful and eclectic selection on display the other four are where she keeps the dross.
Well in my last house I had huge built in bookshelves and about seven other bookshelves (wee ones) dotted about the house and a ton of books all over the bloody place and mostly I’ve still got all the books and the wee bookshelves but Clint got the big built in ones that held all my fiction from A-M.
So, until Bert builds me more bookshelves, I’ve got a big book storage problem and it may be time for a cull. But even if I get rid of all the dungy ones (Kellerman, Dan Brown, Trollope and the ones with pink covers) I’ve still got far too many and I probably haven’t even got round to reading about 200 of them and I’ve forgotten what the rest of them are about.
I was trying to do a redding out the other day and only managed to put about eight in the charity shop box. Must try harder.
Talking of charity shops I was in one the other day in Larne where not only were they charging an extortionate price for tatty paperbacks they had also great big saucer sized stickers urging the potential buyer to read them and then bring them back so they could sell them again! For some reason this enraged me. But then I’m easily maddened these days. Hormones.
And of course that Trollope was Joanna. I kept my Anthonys.
4 comments:
Can I help it if she (aye, the cat's mother) used the worng article to describe the literature storage device?
I mean, if someone said 'See thon Nelly, she has a weblog' it wouldn't mean as much as what is usually said, in that 'See thon Nelly, she has the weblog'
Not pedantry at all. Just trying to clarify.
Yawn! Excuse me if I cannot come back with a witty retort right now but I was up most of the night watching hunky firemen tackle an inferno.
I must confess to only having one bookcase myself. A shameful state of affairs, but there are mitigating circumstances:
1. Boxes of books, lots of them.
2. Me ma has an abundance of shelfspace available for book storage.
3. Many, many books (and shelves) went up in the great inferno of naught-two. Like, hundreds of books and about 80ft of shelf space.
Still, Must Try Harder. More shelves, more books...
Was your inferno was just a getting-to-know-you event thrown by the good people of tinkertown, then?
No. Our inferno was the house down the lane's garage. The house is empty and becoming derelict. Had the fire brigade not attended I think the house would have gone too. Pictures will be posted on Flickr. Aftermath only as it was dark when the conflagration was at its fiercest.
That was sad about the stuff that was lost in your fire but I suppose if it is only stuff...
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