73
R. Linda:
You probably think I do not have a blighty thing to do at work but write to you all day. You are right.
After me somewhat embarrassing encounter with the cab driver, I had dragged me new settee across the polished parquet floors to the centre of me living room. I had moved the coffee table, and upside ended it against the wall under the window. Then I pushed with all me might the cumbersome sofa. I added Uncle Boris's leather monstrosity and another matching one to either side of the sofa. I got four large furniture throws in dark navy blue I had purchased at the local Wally World AKA Wal-Mart, and hid the offending stuff beneath.
Then, with glee, I moved me new pieces where the others had been. Ok, it wasn't much, and it did look sad, the one small settee and coffee table, but it looked more like home, and I was happy. I sat there with a grin on me face that I couldn't wipe off, so filled me heart was with joy. As I sat there looking around. I realised the sparseness of it and decided I needed to place something on the coffee table (besides me feet) for that lived-in look. I looked around and saw absolutely nothing that would go on a Queen Anne table. What to do.
I thought for a wee bit and remembered my sainted granny had books on hers with a giant doily she had made herself. I didn't have a doily, but I could get one easy enough back at the shop where I got me furniture. But books, I needed at least two, and there was nothing but Russian history books and too many to count on the ill-fated Anastasia.
I went to me trusty computer and got online to Amazon.com. One of me fav movies is also me fav book and I know this will make you think I have Americanised meself but good. It is The Cider House Rules. I wanted a used book so it looked homey and read. You know that sort of thing. I also wanted another book, and another came up for readers who liked The Cider House Rules. I thought, what the hell, click, click, click, and I ordered two used books at $2.50 plus shipping and tax and it came to something like $65.39! I don't know how that happened either, so don't ask.
Well, I had express shipping. That might explain some of it; the rest we can ask Governor Schwarzenegger about as far as state tax goes. This very morning, R. Linda, the delivery of the books arrived. I was all excited, so I unwrapped the first one, which was a big, flat thin book which had me wondering why it was that shape. Seems I was sent the wrong book! It was Madonna's Mr. Peabody's Apples. I sat there staring at Madonna on the cover in big, bold letters. WHY? I looked up the price of it and it was $10.00 for the worthless thing, so I decided it wasn't worth the bother to send it back. Sigh.
The other one I unwrapped with some trepidation but was delighted it was The Cider House Rules. Only one thing I wanted used, I got used. I got a used library book. From the Hildebran Library, Hildebran, U.S.A. I wondered what the overdue charges were. I flipped open the back cover, and there on the back the last stamped date was 16 January, 2004. Six months overdue! Could they trace the bloody thing to me?
Having heard how the authorities track down late library borrowers, I ran into me water closet and closed the door. I placed a towel under the door to blot out any light from showing, flicked off the light and clicked me trusty flashlight on. There, under the dim light of the torch, I ripped off the library card holder on the back with the incriminating overdue stamp. Then I scratched off the sticker with Hildebran Library and the address on it. The J. Irv F on the back of the spine was under the plastic sheet cover. That was a chore and a half to get off. I had to gently dig with me toothbrush under the plastic to separate it from the cover page. Oi. I finally got that done, and with me fingernail, had to scratch away at the author's ID. Then I realised I had just defaced a library book! What were the charges for that? Time in the nick?
I tell you, R. Linda, I was in a muck sweat over this. When I got it all clear of any library identification, I closed the book and sat on top of the toilet seat for a few minutes, catching me breath and waiting for me heart to slow down. Once settled a wee bit, I flicked off me torch and pulled the towel away from the door bottom. Slowly I got up and eased open the door to make sure the library police weren't outside waiting to haul my arse to the nick. Once assured they weren't, I stepped out with me denuded book. I listened and heard nothing.
I crept to the coffee table, placed me book on it and then, yes, then, R. Linda, I hustled me butt to the gas fireplace and rived it up. I threw in the sticky evidence and watched it burn, baby burn! Once that was done, I returned and got the postage wrappings and back to the fireplace I went; once again, I watched the incriminating stuff go up in flames.
I have to tell you, it was one tense hour. I'm fine now. No one knows all this, and I know you won't turn me in to the Hildebran library police.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
You probably think I do not have a blighty thing to do at work but write to you all day. You are right.
After me somewhat embarrassing encounter with the cab driver, I had dragged me new settee across the polished parquet floors to the centre of me living room. I had moved the coffee table, and upside ended it against the wall under the window. Then I pushed with all me might the cumbersome sofa. I added Uncle Boris's leather monstrosity and another matching one to either side of the sofa. I got four large furniture throws in dark navy blue I had purchased at the local Wally World AKA Wal-Mart, and hid the offending stuff beneath.
Then, with glee, I moved me new pieces where the others had been. Ok, it wasn't much, and it did look sad, the one small settee and coffee table, but it looked more like home, and I was happy. I sat there with a grin on me face that I couldn't wipe off, so filled me heart was with joy. As I sat there looking around. I realised the sparseness of it and decided I needed to place something on the coffee table (besides me feet) for that lived-in look. I looked around and saw absolutely nothing that would go on a Queen Anne table. What to do.
I thought for a wee bit and remembered my sainted granny had books on hers with a giant doily she had made herself. I didn't have a doily, but I could get one easy enough back at the shop where I got me furniture. But books, I needed at least two, and there was nothing but Russian history books and too many to count on the ill-fated Anastasia.
I went to me trusty computer and got online to Amazon.com. One of me fav movies is also me fav book and I know this will make you think I have Americanised meself but good. It is The Cider House Rules. I wanted a used book so it looked homey and read. You know that sort of thing. I also wanted another book, and another came up for readers who liked The Cider House Rules. I thought, what the hell, click, click, click, and I ordered two used books at $2.50 plus shipping and tax and it came to something like $65.39! I don't know how that happened either, so don't ask.
Well, I had express shipping. That might explain some of it; the rest we can ask Governor Schwarzenegger about as far as state tax goes. This very morning, R. Linda, the delivery of the books arrived. I was all excited, so I unwrapped the first one, which was a big, flat thin book which had me wondering why it was that shape. Seems I was sent the wrong book! It was Madonna's Mr. Peabody's Apples. I sat there staring at Madonna on the cover in big, bold letters. WHY? I looked up the price of it and it was $10.00 for the worthless thing, so I decided it wasn't worth the bother to send it back. Sigh.
The other one I unwrapped with some trepidation but was delighted it was The Cider House Rules. Only one thing I wanted used, I got used. I got a used library book. From the Hildebran Library, Hildebran, U.S.A. I wondered what the overdue charges were. I flipped open the back cover, and there on the back the last stamped date was 16 January, 2004. Six months overdue! Could they trace the bloody thing to me?
Having heard how the authorities track down late library borrowers, I ran into me water closet and closed the door. I placed a towel under the door to blot out any light from showing, flicked off the light and clicked me trusty flashlight on. There, under the dim light of the torch, I ripped off the library card holder on the back with the incriminating overdue stamp. Then I scratched off the sticker with Hildebran Library and the address on it. The J. Irv F on the back of the spine was under the plastic sheet cover. That was a chore and a half to get off. I had to gently dig with me toothbrush under the plastic to separate it from the cover page. Oi. I finally got that done, and with me fingernail, had to scratch away at the author's ID. Then I realised I had just defaced a library book! What were the charges for that? Time in the nick?
I tell you, R. Linda, I was in a muck sweat over this. When I got it all clear of any library identification, I closed the book and sat on top of the toilet seat for a few minutes, catching me breath and waiting for me heart to slow down. Once settled a wee bit, I flicked off me torch and pulled the towel away from the door bottom. Slowly I got up and eased open the door to make sure the library police weren't outside waiting to haul my arse to the nick. Once assured they weren't, I stepped out with me denuded book. I listened and heard nothing.
I crept to the coffee table, placed me book on it and then, yes, then, R. Linda, I hustled me butt to the gas fireplace and rived it up. I threw in the sticky evidence and watched it burn, baby burn! Once that was done, I returned and got the postage wrappings and back to the fireplace I went; once again, I watched the incriminating stuff go up in flames.
I have to tell you, it was one tense hour. I'm fine now. No one knows all this, and I know you won't turn me in to the Hildebran library police.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
