Behind The Veil

It would seem that the past three posts have all been photos of my ever increasing book collection. I will only ever be able to read through this mountain if I somehow become housebound for a prolonged period of time, or retire.

Anyhoo, today you can have a dragon in a bride's dress.

This is part of a window display in a Marie Curie shop in Newington. I think it's brilliant. Took a full length pic too but this portrays the expression of the dragon better.

If you donated your wedding dress to a charity shop, would you be pleased or peeved if this is what they did with it? I suppose if you're getting rid, chances are the marriage went a bit wrong and you mightn't give a toss. There again is it not suggesting the owner was responsible for the breakdown of the relationship because she was a bit of a dragon? Surely that's offensive.

I suspect someone in the shop probably just thought it'd look funny. Would love to know who donated the dragon though.

What Is A Pirate's Favourite Shop

Someone at my weekend branch has conducted a vicious cull of pirate related fiction in the past fortnight.

Why would anyone do such a thing? Fear, perhaps. Or a long standing love of the Empire. Or hatred of grog.

Whichever scenarios be true, it scarcely matters. They're mine now. Arr.

A Clash Of Good And Evil

A chap brought some books in to donate today, claiming they were in really good condition. This was demonstrably not the case. But this might be the best tagline I have ever seen.



Child 1: ALISON! WHAT'S THIS WORD? I-N-C-O-N-T-I-N-E-N-CE?
Child 2: CONSTIPATION!
Me: Incontinence.
Child 1: What's incontinence?
Me: Er...
Child 3: It's like constipation! Ewwww!

Robert Pattinson Collects Belfries

In lieu of an interesting photo today, here is an old one featuring a couple of books I inherited from a big library clear out. We had to remove 9 shelves to make room for a spectacularly underused information pod. Totally worth it.

Furthermore, the creator of surprisingly readable Doctor Who blog The Mind Probe has created another internet gem, The R-Patz Factz. This is a bit like the Chuck Norris facts, but more topical as they are about sparkly vampire hunk - or vunk - Robert Pattinson. Follow the blog! Join the Facebook group! It's going to be an internet phenomenon the like of which has never been seen.

Tale The Next

Once Upon A Meadow, sideways of the gaudy clover patch, a pair of gardening gloves lie abandoned and forgotten.

They used to protect the fingers of Franny the Magnificent, an Edinburgh gardener of style and repute. But Franny moved on to higher places and things, like TV cheffing.

So passed the gloves to a careless nephew (and enemy of syntax) named Jarvis. He rarely used them for their intended purpose, preferring instead to insert porridge and leave them in odd places to frighten people with a fear of hands. Several maiden uncles were killed in this manner, and so the gloves were removed from Jarvis' care by a thoughtful squirrel.

Sadly the gloves were a little too heavy for the nameless squirrel to carry very far, and the burden of them made her appear most ungainly. So she dropped them in a meadow, which is where you came in.

Who knows what other adventures lie in store for these finger sheaths extraordinaire? I refer you to someone other than I.

I Heart Crayon's

I <3 Crayon's what though?

And who punctuates their graffiti? Wrongly?!

Summertime

And the flowers are soggy.










A day in the life of me.

Go to get papers on my way to work. World weary proprietor tells man queuing in front of me "it's no time yet! It's only 9.30!" Man staggers blinking and confused into sunlight. He smells a bit boozy.

Arrive in library. Staff loos smell of raw sewage after some work on the drains. Mmmmm.

I scrub permanent marker graffiti off kids' craft table. My main problem with it is the illiteracy. Willys is plural! It requires an ie! And there's a c in suk. Fools.

Colleague from another branch who I have met on several occasions appears and introduces himself to me again, claiming we have never met.

Having organised a visit from an outside agency for them, none of my primary aged reading group turn up. And none of them bother to let me know till I've been sitting waiting on them in the school library for fifteen minutes. Myself and colleague eat their strawberries.

Get home to find Barrington Stoke have sent me a book and a load of info for me to review, a mere three days after I initially emailed them. Hooray!

I am the only member of my flat to witness a Shetland pony playing hockey on America's Got Talent. Shame.

"And on those lonely adolescent nights, I'd weep into a pair of stolen tights." - Alan Moore, Promethea