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So, it's that time of the month again (no, not that time. Well, actually, it is that time, but that's not what I'm talking about here). Yes, it's the time when free books get delivered to me. Lots and lots of brand new books, brought to my door by overnight courier from London. Why am I complaining? Well, I'm complaining because, apart from the fact that 99% of the books will be complete shit and they take up far too much space, this means I am a PRISONER IN MY OWN HOME. If I leave the house for more than five seconds, a FedEx van is sure to arrive and deliver the package to some neighbour I've never seen before. So even though it is a lovely sunny day and I would like to, you know, get some fresh air and go for a quick walk in the park, I must stay in, gazing out the window like the Lady of Shalott (actually, was she allowed to gaze out? Was that what crack'd the mirror? Although I can mysteriously remember the first two verses in their entirity -"on either side the river lie/ long fields of barley and of rye" and so on - I can't remember what the actual curse was. I remember it involved the bold Sir Lancelot parading down to the tower, of course, and that she ended up floating down the river and everyone said "she has a lovely face/God in his mercy send her grace", but that's it. Perhaps I should revive my LofS icon to remind me. And now ends 19th century Poetry Time).

Also, couriers despise me. They despise me because almost every time they arrive, I am in pyjamas. The same couriers keep turning up, and I know they think I am an appalling slattern who never brushes her hair or washes (which is not quite true). Even though I am usually unwashed and in pyjamas because I can't have a shower until they turn up. But I'm not too impressed with them either, or rather their employers, one of whom is called Midnight Express. How did they come up with that one? "We need something snappy, something that indicates our speediness, our great service - something reminiscent of a brutal Turkish prison full of sad western hash smugglers." I mean, really.

Anyway. Two of the couriers have turned up, so I should go and read what they have brought me. Even though it's all terrible. Oh, woe is me....


( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 7th, 2005 01:08 pm (UTC)
The only thing I know about the Lady of Shallott is that Af used the line to compare Ginty

"He said, she has a lovely face
God in his mercy lend her grace."

Although I can't remember which of Patrick's parents said it.

But FREE books! Tell us about the worst ones.
Feb. 7th, 2005 01:10 pm (UTC)
you have given me my first laugh of the day. thank you.

i eagerly await reports on the worst book in the bunch.
Feb. 7th, 2005 02:14 pm (UTC)
Ooh, Totoro! I love your icon. :)
Feb. 7th, 2005 05:36 pm (UTC)
Hee. You're welcome! And never fear, there will be reports.
Feb. 7th, 2005 02:42 pm (UTC)
Aren't you ever tempted to answer the door in a towel, or a ninja outfit, or a cowboy hat,or something? Just to mix them up a little?
Feb. 7th, 2005 05:38 pm (UTC)
That is the Greatest Idea Ever. I think I shall have to start coming up with a series of comedy outfits, a different one for every day to keep hte couriers on their toes. They'll never know what to expect! "Why, hello DHL-woman! Yes, I am indeed wearing my cowgirl ensemble today. Not as cool as yesterday's ninja suit, I know..."
Feb. 7th, 2005 03:31 pm (UTC)
I spit on your waiting-in misery, for I have had to wait in for the shower repair man, and then he bloody turned up when I was feeding the baby. I did consider answering the door with bare breast and baby attached, but am not yet so shameless. So she screamed while I waved helplessly at the bathroom and mouthed "help".

So, you have at least some good books but I have a new shower, after four days of none at all. We're evens there.
Feb. 7th, 2005 05:40 pm (UTC)
Okay, you're right. Except you are being kept from the delivery/repair people by the Best Baby Ever! And the only living being who keeps me from answering the door is Ju Ju, shouting for tuna. So I think you actually win.
Feb. 7th, 2005 07:07 pm (UTC)
Okay, yes. I am spectacularly ungrateful about my glorious baby. But, awfully, I keep being tempted to tell the few adults I interact with that they're really really clever if they make any kind of voice noises at all.

And! Ooh! I have ordered an iTalk attachment for my iPod, so I can record the Gnome's brilliant talking. Await!
Feb. 7th, 2005 04:09 pm (UTC)
The working premise of most tradesmen (as distinct from tradespeople of either gender) appears to be that there is, or should be, a Housewife in every home, sitting waiting patiently for them to call, day in, day out, so it really doesn't matter whether they turn up on Monday at 2 or Wednesday at 9. This has been a rare situation indeed in Dublin for oh, about 20 years, but it doesn't seem to have sunk in yet. It always sends me into an unreasoning paroxysm of rage, and I want to kick the repairman when he does arrive.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )


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