chando*
237/365 - One day in the Life of a Librarian
And so, as predicted, they nailed a wooden plank on the smashed window pane thus depriving our poor lot from the only sunlight we got in that section of the library. From now on, we'll need a flashlight to search for a book on the lower shelves...*sigh*
This afternoon I had to play the Ninja Librarian and drive out a bloke who was yelling - yes, YELLING - at his sweetheart: "JE T'AIME, MAIS SI, BON SANG, JE T'AIME" in the middle of the library. *rolls eyes*
I was paired with a chatterbox at the checkout, but I managed to finish "Narrow Dog to Carcassonne" by Terry Darlington. I enjoyed the book, even though I had to get used to the absence of quotation marks and the author isn't very kind to my country (I don't like Belgium. (...) The hole country has clearly come under control of aliens.)
I can't resist to share an excerpt with you:
Lucy, our eldest, rang at breakfast. Where are you? On the Rhône, down towards Avignon, I said. We are just getting ready to go through the Bollène lock, the second deepest in Europe. I am nervous, and your mother is nervous and we are being nasty to one another and we have made Jim [the whippet] nervous and he's whining. These locks are so big that one false step and you would never be found. Awful things happen on the Rhône. You don't know what has been going on here. We never know what to expect.
You know I just can't understand you, said Lucy. I was talking to Clifford about it and we really don't think it's good enough. I mean Cliff and I and Georgia gave you the best years of our lives. Whenever you needed us we were there. When you wanted advice we gave it, when your friends let you down we would comfort you. If you had bad luck in business or sport we would remind you what mattered was your own integrity, that bit of you inside that you know is good and no one can take away. We didn't ask for anything in return, only your love. And now we are getting old you leave us, you go off and do things against our advice. You don't care what we think any more. People ask Where are you, they have heard you are in trouble, and we say, We don't know, they probably are, they usually are. Grandmothers have evolved over millions of years so they can be back-up mothers, and grandfathers so they can put up shelves and build barbecues and give people money. Other grandparents babysit and tile their daughter's bathrooms but all you do is wander around and risk your lives and lavish your affection on a wretched dog that looks like a skeleton and steals things. You sit up drinking with people we don't know, dropouts and expats and bums and your grandchildren say Where are Granny and Grandad why can't they come to the pictures with us or take us to Chester Zoo and we say Last we heard they were being swept away down the bloody Rhône in a boat that was made for two feet of water with a dog that should be under the table in the Star or running around on the common chasing rabbits.
It was Lucy, I said, wishing us luck with the Bollène lock.
237/365 - One day in the Life of a Librarian
And so, as predicted, they nailed a wooden plank on the smashed window pane thus depriving our poor lot from the only sunlight we got in that section of the library. From now on, we'll need a flashlight to search for a book on the lower shelves...*sigh*
This afternoon I had to play the Ninja Librarian and drive out a bloke who was yelling - yes, YELLING - at his sweetheart: "JE T'AIME, MAIS SI, BON SANG, JE T'AIME" in the middle of the library. *rolls eyes*
I was paired with a chatterbox at the checkout, but I managed to finish "Narrow Dog to Carcassonne" by Terry Darlington. I enjoyed the book, even though I had to get used to the absence of quotation marks and the author isn't very kind to my country (I don't like Belgium. (...) The hole country has clearly come under control of aliens.)
I can't resist to share an excerpt with you:
Lucy, our eldest, rang at breakfast. Where are you? On the Rhône, down towards Avignon, I said. We are just getting ready to go through the Bollène lock, the second deepest in Europe. I am nervous, and your mother is nervous and we are being nasty to one another and we have made Jim [the whippet] nervous and he's whining. These locks are so big that one false step and you would never be found. Awful things happen on the Rhône. You don't know what has been going on here. We never know what to expect.
You know I just can't understand you, said Lucy. I was talking to Clifford about it and we really don't think it's good enough. I mean Cliff and I and Georgia gave you the best years of our lives. Whenever you needed us we were there. When you wanted advice we gave it, when your friends let you down we would comfort you. If you had bad luck in business or sport we would remind you what mattered was your own integrity, that bit of you inside that you know is good and no one can take away. We didn't ask for anything in return, only your love. And now we are getting old you leave us, you go off and do things against our advice. You don't care what we think any more. People ask Where are you, they have heard you are in trouble, and we say, We don't know, they probably are, they usually are. Grandmothers have evolved over millions of years so they can be back-up mothers, and grandfathers so they can put up shelves and build barbecues and give people money. Other grandparents babysit and tile their daughter's bathrooms but all you do is wander around and risk your lives and lavish your affection on a wretched dog that looks like a skeleton and steals things. You sit up drinking with people we don't know, dropouts and expats and bums and your grandchildren say Where are Granny and Grandad why can't they come to the pictures with us or take us to Chester Zoo and we say Last we heard they were being swept away down the bloody Rhône in a boat that was made for two feet of water with a dog that should be under the table in the Star or running around on the common chasing rabbits.
It was Lucy, I said, wishing us luck with the Bollène lock.