In which our librarian finds herself propositioned by Rowley Birkin QC

Had a lucky escape this week at the old Naval barracks: A team of carpetbaggers had been scheduled to move in to re-arrange my carefully deployed troops, but I managed to fend them off by pelting them with ammo in the form of stale muffins left over from a wedding banquet the previous week (must remind Chef to clear up after hiring out my library for nuptial celebrations in future)

All this was not enough to stop me from completing my epic task of registering all troops in the OPAC (catalogue - to the uninitiated). It's been a struggle, but I can proudly announce that all recruits are now present and correct and ready for inspection. Huzzah!

And talking of My Struggle: Hitler's tome, having escaped from the broom cupboard last week, has been looking for trouble, so I placed him on a shelf next to the Palestine Commission Report and told the two of them not to argue behind my back and asked T E Lawrence's Seven Pillars of Wisdom to keep an eye on the pair of them. Not sure how well this will work as Lawrence tends to follow his own agenda and has in fact - to my annoyance - announced his retirement from acting only this week. Personally I preferred him in The Ruling Class, but there you go. I consoled myself with a Folio atlas from the 1860s which I'm hoping to flog for a vast profit if I can find a suitable buyer.

Meanwhile in the Indies, a chap called Billy Hogarth has been occupying much of my time, as I have been given the task of cataloguing his etchings, and a frankly disreputable bunch they are too, but what can you expect from a chap who hung out such such low-lifes as young Jack Sheppard who - incidentally is a good friend of mine and I think you should investigate his website:

picture  copyright www.shugmonkey.com

Several volumes have returned from the binders with a warning that they are not to be displayed lying down with their pages open unless propped up by pillows - a warning which seems to have gone down well with the company Chairman who promises not to display himself in public unless so positioned.

Poor old Colonel Gin-Soaked has had his nose well and truly put out of joint this week by Lothario, who spent a good deal of time telling me his life story and assuring me that should my good husband ever prove deficient in any sense, he would be more than happy to fill any situations that became vacant...that is if he can fit it in between his global business engagements and four ex-wives. Couldn't help but be reminded of this chap: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Cwyq3XWeHE

Toodle-pip

Onward wounded soldiers

Well it's been a week of peace talks back at HQ which gave many of my front-line troops some time off. Some of them took advantage of this by gathering dust on the shelves, some were packed off to be re-bound, but most lined up smartly waiting to be included in the new role of honour code-named OPAC (for the civvies among you, this is military speak for On-line Public Access Catalogue), which mighty PR initiative (how we modern military folks love our fancy new ways) is to be launched within the next week or so; and which will allow members of the great British public (and any others for that matter) to inspect my troops free of charge, though obviously not to actually hire them out (unless by special arrangement....all bribes carefully considered and cash to be left in a brown envelope beside a bin next to Starbucks in Piccadilly Circus).


Slightly worrying development on the Barracks front however: it appears that my luxury suite of offices (more often referred to as a Broom Cupboard) is to be turned into a WC for soldiers wounded in the call of duty.





 Now I'm all for equality, disability-access and fraternity and all that, but I am rather puzzled as to how I will manage to manoeuvre my troops from a field tent on the second floor. Awaiting further orders on that one, especially as I have now been led to believe that my (currently) homeless battalions temporarily housed in the Billiards Room and Second Floor office suite, are likely to be moved to some sort of cardboard city in a corridor on the third floor. I have suggested building a shelf next to a scale model of HMS Victory so that Nelson keep an eye on them.



Meanwhile in India I received a visit from Lord Clive himself - or someone claiming to be him. On closer inspection it turned out to be none other than old Colonel Gin-soaked himself (Gordon's Gin-soaked Highland Regiment, (Retired)) who, having had one over his usual ration, had raided the closet under the stairs (next to the statue of a bulldog). Having discovered that the chain-mail suit was too tight for him, he'd seized the next best costume and was parading around in it in an attempt to intimidate the members of the Rugby Club who had taken over one of the dining rooms for a particularly long and boozy lunch. Gawd bless the lot of 'em.

(Veterans Parade photo © Copyright Hugh Scott http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1600230)