In which our librarian re-enacts the battle of troy using scrap metal and opera singers

Troyens picture from www.roh.org.uk

So this week I decided it was time for some special manoeuvres in the field and attended a forces training event where the battle of Troy was to be re-enacted. I was somewhat gob-smacked when I learned that said re-enactment involved five an an half hours of operatics by one Hector Berlioz, as he isn't mentioned in any of the manuals: Where in Sun Tzu or Clausewitz does it imply that the result of the Battle of Ilium would have been different if it had been set to music? Where in Jomini or Wu Ch'i does it suggest that Hector B is a better fighter than his Trojan namesake?
Anyway, I decided to put aside my prejudices against civilian instructors and enjoy the show especially as an elderly gentleman had offered me a top-price seat in the Stalls (though I was puzzled by the lack of horses in said area). Was somewhat taken aback when another mature gentleman attempted to lure me to further operatic displays as his accomplice, despite my protestations that such behaviour could cause a scandal in the ranks. Must make sure his CO is warned about his behaviour before it gets out of hand.

So the following day I returned to the barracks armed with my new tactics and found, to my surprise that the enemy within known as the Catering Corps had voluntarily withdrawn from the tilt-yard in order to let me carry out my operations in peace, namely the enrolling of the Palmerston Biographical Regiment, who as yet hadn't managed to make it to roll-call. Sadly I discovered that like the gift of the  Greeks, the Catering Corps's gift-horse was not all it seemed and the buggers had sabotaged my equipment: every time I attempted to enter a soldier's details on the laptop, said piece of dodgy artillery wiped it, and I was forced to resort to Plan B involving trollies, pullies and a desk-top. Normal ops will resume next week I hope.


Oh and a quick mention for Meirion the Welsh Guardsman. He said that if anyone is looking for an online system for anything they should give him a shout. Toodle-pip.

In which Hitler invades the library

Have managed to re-negotiate the terms of  my most recent truce though frankly the concessions I've wrung from my apparent rulers, namely The Catering Corps, are fairly insubstantial. Namely, that I will be warned in advance of future invasions, whether they be by enemies within or those without. Talking of which: while scrabbling about in the lowest depths of my luxury office suite (AKA the broom cupboard which is now NOT to turned into a disabled loo as the CO has been warned that making policy on the hoof is now the sole prerogative of the Department for Education), I came across a 1936 copy of an obscure monograph entitled My Struggle - author one A. Hitler. I somehow doubt he was ever a member of the regiment and shall be asking questions about who sneaked him, but more importantly: making sure he's in a secure place so that whoever decides to take him out, doesn't run off and flog him to the highest bidder.

Other than that, the truce appears to be holding and I haven't had to negotiate a path through hungry diners, Freemasons or vicars (or even canons) for several weeks now, as a result of which the regimental register is looking very dapper: nearly 3000 of an estimated 4000 old soldiers can now be found at the click of a mouse via the OPAC (which I believe some people call an Online Public Access Catalogue).

t-shirt available from philosphyfootball.com

Meanwhile in the Indies, I have been undertaking a similar exercise with the firm's art works, much to the chagrin of Colonel Gordon Gin-soaked (of the eponymous Highland Regiment). Sadly the Colonel found that while in was engaged in inventorising duties, I had no time to sip G&Ts with him and his chums who were having a conference about Camus's contribution to sport in the lead-up to the Olympics: "All that I know most surely about morality and obligations I owe to football."

Not to be outdone, in terms of attention seeking, Britain's wealthy artist (allegedly) popped in to insist on discussing which of his etchings was my favourite, but in order to facilitate this, he kindly donated me a signed copy of his latest catalogue (not unlike IKEA's actually) and warned me not to leave it in the library as it was hot property and their were book thieves about. Lucky he reminded me of this or Hitler may have escaped...again

In which our heroine fights off kidnappers, Del-Boy Trotter and a lovesick Lithuanian

Dammit if the natives haven't been rebelling again in the Indies! I suspect the same subversives are responsible as those behind the anti-New-Labour conspiracy of some two months back, but this time the blackguards resorted to kidnapping....and they didn't even demand a ransom, merely hid the body (Peter Mandelson's The Third Man) behind a shelf of reference books. Now I'm not one for conspiracy theories (despite the fact that I'm currently half way through a hefty tome by Umberto Eco), but I suspect someone here definitely has it in for the previous Government. Questions will be asked of course, but a mere half of the population are now under suspicion and may be called in for questioning.


As a result of this constant sabotage, I have asked Colonel Gin-soaked of the Eponymous Gordon's Highland Regiment to stand guard for me and see if he can pick up any Intel., but he may well get caught with his trousers down while poring over our collection of Wisden's, in which case I will have to call in the SAS.

Copyright Chris Whippet. www.geograph.org.uk/profile/27922

Back at the old Naval barracks, my sale of regimental silver is not going as well as we'd hoped. After an initial flurry of interest, sales have fallen off dramatically and I am having to resort to the services of a second-hand book dealer. Let's hope he didn't learn all he knows from Messrs Daley (Arthur) and Trotter (Derek).








Work for the past few weeks has been hindered by the unwanted attention of a Lovesick Lithuanian who has been hanging around my luxury office suite (aka the broom-cupboard-soon-to-be-a-disabled-loo) like a lost puppy. I believe he is a member of the Household Cavalry (Maintenance Division), but I've had to warn the chap that - far though he may be from his Homeland - he cannot pitch his tent on my balcony which is already inhabited by a husband, two teen offspring and a selection of cats (plus any offerings those latter two beasts decide to proffer after their hunting sorties). Let's just hope he finds someone of his own age (about half of mine incidentally) on whom to lavish his attention soon, or I will have to report him to his Sargent Major.