A book was delivered this morning. Nothing special in that. Except that I haven't ordered one for months. Dolores has enacted strict book buying guidelines and I want to retain both bollocks.
A book from England. How exciting. What could it be? Ainslie Books, the return address said. That rang a bell. Now why was that? Aaaaah "I bet I know what it is" I said to Dolores.
I took a butcher's at the postmark, just to be sure. February 10th. Wow. That's quick. Delivered in just minus four weeks. February 10th . . . . 2007. Make that delivered in just 11 months. Where on earth could it have been for the best part of a year?
Now I was sure of the book's identity. Heartbroken I was, when it didn't arrive last year. I'd coveted it so long. Eventually, I ordered another copy. Now I have two. Anyone interested in buying my spare "The Anchor Magazine 150th Year Commemoration 1781-1931"?
"How does this fit in with your blog theme?" Ah well, whose house rag was the Anchor Magazine? That's right - Barclay Perkins.
Weekend (no not the Godard film) - *Doing my talk on beer and travel, no cabbages were thrown*Weekender, Peakender, disturbing the fusty force that normally descends on a weekend, trains and...
43 minutes ago