in which our Librarian gets up and at 'em and arms herself with a defibrillator

photo by Waaargh! at
  http://www.fotopedia.com/items/flickr-416231916 

Well I have to say the last truce lasted longer than most. Before I'd even got to the door of the barracks this week however, the smell of toast wafted towards me delighting my nostrils so much that had I not already had breakfast, I may have almost been tempted to join the enemy for a quick repast .......before dismantling their barricade naturally. However, I'm made of sterner stuff than that and set to work dismantling their rather poorly constructed fortification, which consisted of a few dining chairs carelessly stacked against my office door. Having made short work of that, I valiantly attempted a roll-call of a few dozen elderly soldiers who'd been lying about undisturbed at the back of the luxury-office-suite-aka-broom-cupboard for several years without seeing active service. Frankly some of them were clearly in the wrong regiment so I despatched them to the London Library and I prepared to exercise the remaining regiments before entering them into the register. At this point, I realised that the enemy within known as the catering corps, must have entered into an alliance with my OPAC supplier as it was...well... kaput, meaning I couldn't achieve any meaningful progress on the cataloguing front. Instead I decided to sabotage their operations and armed myself with several pots of marmalade and a few forks and set about constructing a battering ram to be used when they least expect it. 'Up and at 'em the buggers' as my dear friend Richard Sharpe would say! (he's been rather quiet lately has he not?)

photo by R.S Gould at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/richardgould/ 

Meanwhile in the east Indies, Olympic fever appears to have taken hold, and many natives appeared to have disappeared down the road to watch the Beach Volleyball (rather dangerous at their age I'd have thought, but I daresay they'd taken precautions). I took the opportunity to raid the archives where, along with a rather elderly employee of the old firm I set about the process of 'weeding'. This turned out to rather dangerous as my accomplice was wheezing, shaking and sweating rather visibly and I was uncertain whether this was down to the Malaria he contracted out on the North West Frontier, the DTs he'd contracted in the hospitality suite, or an on coming heart condition. To be on the safe side, I armed myself with a bottle of Gin, some Smelling Salts and a Defibrillator. Forewarned is Forearmed as my dear friend Captain Hooke used to say.


And talking of Gin, old Colonel Gin-soaked of the eponymous Gordon's Highland Regiment, has taken leave (not of his senses - that happened decades since). Apparently he rather upset Bruno the Barman by wearing the same shirt for five days on the trot without bothering the laundry with it, and has been advised to sew some buttons on in order to prevent his rather shrivelled belly from making a guest appearance. 'The Horror The Horror' as my dear friend Mr Kurtz might have said.


That'll have to be it from me for a few weeks as I'm off to spend my shore-leave not fighting 'em on the beaches of a Sardonic Island....or was it Saronic?