Absenteeism and other stories

 I was planning on going to Chichester Cathedral today but didn't. Such abject dereliction of duty was never my way. In 34 years of devoted service in my government paid jobs, I missed 5 days through being unfit - it might have been 6. It was no reflection on the performers in Chichester even if Thursday's in Portsmouth is a higher priority, it was a dull day, chidden of God, I am enthralled by The Scapegoat and three important deliveries of further material were due - just arrived now- and all in all the realization that Tuesday lunchtimes are not obligatory and I've done plenty came as a mild release.

Watching the progress of the delivery driver from eight stops away served to demonstrate just what a mammoth operation Amazon is and though I feel guilty of using it, it would cost a few hundred pounds a year more to source books and records elsewhere.

So, the book of Nightingale Night, the new Murakami and a streetplan of Nottingham are all essential additions to the library. In twenty-six years at this address it has expanded such that downsizing the house - heaven forfend- is hardly thinkable. All shelf capacity is all but spoken for. It might be possible to fit another bookcase in upstairs but after that, well, who's to say. It's when such sections as Larkin, Murakami, Bach, Shakespeare, etc. can't be kept neatly together that I fret slightly. But if that's my biggest concern I have precious little to worry about.

 

One can't read two big, fat books at once, though, so Murakami will have to wait. It's not as if one doesn't know what it's going to be like. I'm reading as much as I reasonably can and can only wonder at Booker Prize judges who have to read over a hundred titles in about as many days and then turn up and discuss them all, not all of them having been worthwhile but one ought to have read them in order to say why not. Rather them than me.