Prussians, Polyurethane and Planetary Parleys - continuing adventures in Libraryland

Meanwhile back in the Library, the King of Prussia popped in to inform our brave Librarian that he had been invited to a celebratory dinner to commemorate the old Battle of Waterloo. Dammit if I didn’t find that all our books appear to have been written by the Duke of Wellington, who – bless him –seems to have forgotten that he didn’t win the blessed battle single-handed.

And talking of history books: the dashing young writer (who is so busy being dashing that he has chosen to do several duels using first-rate top-brass as his Seconds, rather than sort out the copyright on his looted artworks) has nearly completed his tome on the history of our venerable institution….yes – you at the back – I said venerable, not any other similar-sounding, yet frankly unsavoury words (the very idea).

So today, I was so put out by the frankly inconvenient congregation of senior members of the Chemicals industry, who have taken up semi-permanent residence in my Library with their fancy bread sticks and fine

wines, that I decided to head off to chair a meeting of Astronauts at Galileo’s old gaff. Unfortunately, too many turned up, so there was no room in the space-ship and we had to settle for Tea in Piccadilly with a semi-functioning Teasmade which hadn’t been used since 1936 and therefore was a tad hard to handle.

Meeting went well though and I learned several new cleaning techniques involving miniature vacuuming apparatus, pipe cleaners and beeswax. All in a day’s work eh!

The Iron Lady vs the Iron Duke (oh the irony)

Mainly quiet on the Western Front recently and I have had time to engage in joint manoevres with other regiments around the square. This proved fascinating as we had a secret rendez-vous with a top international crime -fighter who brought us tales of major book thieves (and none of them - despite what Markus Zusak would have you believe) called Liesel. Having been informed that plates that had been surreptitiously removed from rare books are probably financing international drug deals by now, most of us were somewhat shaken out of our cozy complacency and vowed to set up an undercover 'sting' involving Gin (supplied my my good friend General Gordon Gin-soaked of the eponymous Highland Regiment), Marzipan and a few AK47s (supplier confidential).

I returned to the barracks feeling suitable steeled-up, only to face a delegation from the Household Cavalry led by a female general (no doubt related to the recently deceased Iron Lady) with a voice like a screech-owl who proved to be on her metal  - much to my dismay. Said general insisted that the book trolley was unsightly and clashed with the luridly floral sofas near the fireplace and therefore had to be removed immediately. I informed her (borrowing some Iron from Sartre's Soul) that if she wanted to provide me with a bookcase with shelves tall enough to display several folio-sized tomes, I would be happy to removed said 'unsightly' trolley. This battle, I feel, will raise temperatures higher than the average blast furnace (though - partly thanks to aforementioned Iron Lady, you won't find too many of those around these parts). But beware Iron Ladies: I have the Iron Duke himself on my side. Let battle commence.

Dr Livingstone I Presume

Well it's been another week of battles on the home front. Apparently a group of distinguished journalists  PR people and COs had hired the barracks for manoeuvres and objected to the presence of a civvy such as myself in their midst. I was forced to retaliate in the only way I know: firing an assortment of cheese straws, vintage claret and rubber stamps at them from the safety of my luxury office suite (aka the broom cupboard). When this failed, I had to use the option of last resort and bring in the big guns in the shape of the Iron Duke himself no less. He saw the buggers off in no time at all, and unrestricted access to the library was restored....for now, but I pity the poor bugger that attempts to take on the Duke of Wellington.

photo by Francesco Gola at http://www.fotopedia.com/items/flickr-4929974975

After that minor skirmish, I decided it was time to undertake some exploratory work on my rear trench, where several dozen leather-bound ledgers have lain virtually undisturbed since the 1860s. This was dirty work as anyone with experience of trenches will tell you, but I emerged after around 24 hours having completely reorganised the show, and erected a barbed wire fence to keep out a certain Volunteer from the RAF who appears convinced we are holding his archive hostage in there. On surfacing, I was so caked in dirt that I was very nearly escorted of the premises by my CO, until he recognised me by the unusual footwear (lucky I'd remembered the Ruby Slippers what?)

Meanwhile over in the Indies, it was decided that a similar series of excavations were long overdue and I headed for the upper floors accompanied by a Sub-Lieutenant from the IT Division and a Deputy Field Marshal from the Home Guard. The state of the latter's health continues to give me cause for concern, particularly as the regimental defibrillator is busy undertaking its annual service, but fortunately he held out.


I did however, secure a promise from the Regimental Secretary that I would be sent on a First Aid Course. Imagine my surprise when they decided that the most appropriate course of action was to enrol me - not in the Royal Army Medical Corps, but on a two-day Bookbinding course. I very much doubt I will bump into H.M. Stanley there!