In which our brave heroine battles the Freemasons and sells letters to the French

photo by Paul Dodd at www.geograph.org.uk/photo/115694

Well it's been another strange old week in the old barracks. The long awaited day of the regimental boot sale dawned and I arrived in the library to find the old enemy within known as the Catering Corps had laid the place out for lunch yet again. For a while I thought they might actually be working on the same side as I my intelligence officer informed me they'd scheduled in a Book Club Lunch, so my regiment and I stood to attention awaiting a scene resembling the first day of the Harrods Sale. Alas this was not to be: said Book Club were only interested in eating and drinking and in fact succeeded in their secret mission of expelling all my potential recruits from the field of battle. The Library looked like Hastings after the defeat of Harold Godwinson.

picture by David Hawgood www.goegraph.or.uk/photo/104440

I recovered some territory after lunch only to find the Masonic regiment booked in for dinner, so I was forced to hide any soldiers that looked as though they might be on the lookout for strange handshakes, aprons or men in charcoal grey suits with briefcases. All was set for battle to commence, until I realised it was home time and retired leaving the field to said Freemasons (who frankly have a much nicer regimental mess down the road at Covent Garden, where I can only assume the chef was having an off day).


I expect to find the books re-arranged on my return, and can only hope the chaps have learned from the Librarian at the Unseen University in Discworld and not shelved certain magic tomes together where they can be allowed to reach a critical mass.


Meanwhile events in the east Indies have been continuing along as one would imagine: flags hung out for jubilee celebrations, French Foreign Legionaires visiting for a quick peek at my Balzacs. They were mightily impressed apparently, especially at their close proximity to Montaigne. Personally I believe that if it's French Letters you're after, you should buy your own at the chemist, but when your library's under fire, I suppose anything goes.

In which our heroine takes on the Iron Lady and the Iron Duke with a tub of Universal Book Cleaner

Well damn me if, what with all the excitement of the past few weeks, I haven't been remiss in my dispatch-writing duties. Sorry chaps.



After last month's truce, it is with deep regret that I have to report that war has broken out once again. This time, the enemy within known as the catering corps sent a particularly vicious Lieutenant in a charcoal grey suit to commandeer my library for the purpose of serving breakfast and lunch to an assorted bunch of civilians. Naturally I attempted to fight back, firing volleys of books at her, but every time I sallied forth from the bunker (aka the Luxury Office Suite, aka the Broom Cupboard-soon-to-be-a-Disabled-Loo) she retaliated by locking me in said bunker, so my only remaining weapon was a pair of field glasses which I used to peer round diners in order to attempt to navigate the library without putting them off their food. I had to be 'cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University' as my old army mate Baldrick used to say, as the buggers had tried to outfox me by strategically placing the CO in the midst of the diners in an attempt to demoralise my troops by giving the impression he'd switched sides.

(booksale picture by Susanica at susanica.com)

I'm in the midst of organising a fundraising
bash where we will be selling off some of the regimental silver in order to raise dosh for new uniforms for some of the younger chaps. In doing this I'm imitating my idol the Iron Lady: not sure the Iron Duke would approve, but I'm sure Gideon Osborne would; in fact I'm offering him first refusal on some of the leftover wallpaper as I hear his family has a particular interest. Have already done a deal with a retired Naval commander over some volumes of Jane's Fighting Ships which were surplus to requirements, so I'm the very model of a modern major general.


Meanwhile all's quiet on the Eastern Front: Have been sprucing up some of the regiments courtesy of large amounts of universal book cleaner - that caused a stink I can tell you. Balzac and De Foe objected at first, thinking I was attempting some sort of Bowdlerisation, but frankly they look so much better now, they may even end up getting read.


Must go - Rigsby's asked me to organise a regimental dinner the week after next and I have to write the agenda. Toodle-pip