In which the Library is yet again attacked by the enemy within

Well bugger me sideways! This week, the catering corps have launched their most vicious assault for some months now and quite without warning. Their CO informed me that they will be permanently requisitioning two of my field depots within the next few weeks leaving several of my boys (including a dozen volumes of Jane's Fighting Ships and a score of illustrated tomes of military uniforms) entirely homeless. 


Naturally I retaliated with - well frankly I didn't have much left to strike with, having exhausted my supplies of space several months ago following the bankruptcy of a certain artillery supplier. Said arms dealer, had promised to deliver two shelving units and is about to find himself on the receiving end of a barrage lunched by the top brass at CHQ have assured me they will  open up an entirely new battlefield with the aid of bailiffs in order to recover our dosh.


Rather took the shine off my - I thought - major victory, namely the signing off of the Catalogue Campaign (strategic OPAC initiative), thanks to the splendid efforts of a member of the Welsh Guards who has now re-run the conversion at least three times and got it looking almost orderly enough to present to the Iron Duke himself.







Meanwhile over in the east Indies, matters are proceeding in a more subdued fashion. Managed to screw a few more pennies out of Rigsby in order to complete a few regiments whose soldiers had either gone AWOL or been assassinated by over-zealous admirers (rather like the ear-less bunny that Bosh cameraman accidentally obliterated this week, poor sod).










Also rather relieved to see the return of my #1 customer this week: Col. Gin-soaked (Gordon's Highlanders - Retd.) indulging in his favourite pastime of snoozing in the library over a volume or two of Dickens, a copy of the Daily Mail and - of course - a G&T. And all without getting his whiskers wet. DON'T PANIC!

In which our brave heroine fails to celebrate with Our Brave Boys

Well, some of the chaps have been out square-bashing this week to celebrate a very important birthday. I warned 'em it could be dangerous at their age, but they wouldn't have it - even invited some Royals along to watch the damned show apparently. It must have been a success, because the exercise degenerated into some sort of Bacchanalian session and the next day, my library had to be rearranged yet again. I complained to the CO, but he had a hangover and advised me to take an early bath.


Good news on the navigation front though: chap from the Library Management Systems corps delivered the first prototype of our new secret weapon - looks good, but will need some tweaking, so I sent him away and ordered him to spend a week with the Army Physical Training Corps and report back to me afterwards.


Meanwhile over in the eastern Indian territories, operations are going smoothly: working on the all new Ordnance Survey style map designed to help my favourite bewhiskered colonel (Gordon's Highlander's Gin-soaked Regiment - retired) navigate some as-yet undiscovered regions of the Library. Needless to say, he was most grateful. Almost made up for my accidental requisition of his copy of Silas Marner (which he suspected I was holding hostage, but which in fact, I had merely gathered during a mine-sweeping operation in which I nearly detonated several staple guns and a fire extinguisher).  Must be more careful in future.


Sadly the officers' Mess is still - well - frankly messy. Must put in that purchase order for a feather duster and a hoover before my next tour of duty.  Toodle-pip

Up and at 'em

So the buggers tried a new tactic this week and attempted to bar my entrance using my own ammo - namely a cunningly crafted display of new books fashioned from a leather-bound limited edition copy of the SAS War Diaries and Sun Tzu's L'art de la Guerre. The b*astards, as Sean would have said.


Undeterred, I tunnelled in via the back entrance and installed a back-up copy of the (as-yet unfinished) Library Catalogue in order to stake my claim on the computer.

The history-walla made an unexpected incursion this week, which nearly blew my southern defences, but I fought her off with a strategically inserted USB and a few Official Histories of the Great War dictated by former Club members, she retired back to Oxford down, but not out.




Meanwhile, over in Eastern India,
reinforcements are continuing to pour in via the Amazon supply line and territories are being gradually marked out so that the hapless Library explorer may, at some point in the near future, be able to negotiate the overgrown jungle of books, with greater ease, (though I suspect the signage may have to be improved yet further before said whiskered and frankly occasionally tipsy explorers  succeed in successfully circumnavigating the library).


Well that's me for another week. Toodle-pip

All quiet on the Eastern Front

This week a truce seems to have been declared and for the first time in months, I was able to take up my position without dismantling any barricades. The cannon had returned to its post guarding the front desk and there was not a vicar in sight - must make a note to reassure George Carey that we are not shooting Christians.

What's more, the CO seems to be in the mood for compromise: the old carrot-and-stick manoeuvre. Chances are, if we relinquish our hold on the western library front, we'll be moved to a new fort complete with bespoke ammo (bookcases) and maybe even a few toy soldiers should we care to re-enact any of Napoleon's campaigns in the near future. The Scouse Historian has not reappeared to demand the right to rifle through my archives in search of secret despatches from the lines at Waterloo - must make a note to distract him when he does.

Meanwhile the expansion into East India is proceeding smoothly - shame I don't drink tea as offers are flooding in from all sides and the locals are terribly friendly: they include a man from Dagenham - don't know his name, but he's certainly Barking - must make a note to get him promoted.


Must sign off now - Royal Engineers expected to sort out the officers mess (I know  - at their age they ought to clean it up themselves) - must make a note to buy them a broom.

concerning barricades manned and empires extended

Returned to the field this week to find my office barricaded once again, this time by judicious placing of an oak table and a large cannon. I managed to negotiate said obstacles and put my own fortifications in place, namely a 'themed' display of books relating to Operation Desert Storm. 'That'll teach the buggers' I thought.

No sooner was this plan put into action than the enemy within retaliated with strategic placement of a bar, complete with barman and assorted wines, spirits and mixers; who attempted appeasement in the form of vodka and tonics. Naturally, being a reasonable sort of soldier, I accepted, while retaining the right to strike back if need be.

Shortly after this, a vicar appeared at the bar. One can only assume that he'd received a dispatch relating to the removal of the Cannon and thought he'd better investigate. He was seen off with a large glass of cranberry juice (must have been C of E) and I returned to my cataloguing.

Meanwhile, I have been indulging in a spot of imperialist expansionism myself and have taken control of the Library on the other side of the square. I would like to add that the fact that their wine cellar extends half way across the square, had nothing to do with my acceptance of their offer of an alliance. I'd like to add that.....

in which our heroine puts down several mutinies

Sadly no time to re-enact the battle of Waterloo this month as planned as several unfortunate skirmishes took place.

Turns out the chaps in the Catering Corps have - through some sort of bloodless coup, seized control of the whole damn operation as far as the Library goes and we should have been answering to them all along. Will have to try subterfuge in the future.

Meanwhile the history-wallah seems to be staging some sort of go-slow. Damn natives eh, may have to call in the Big Guns to sort this one out.

On the positive front: been the beneficiary of a legacy consisting of books belonging to a damn fine Lady...can't think why Winston Churchill called her ugly, but then he was never really One of Us was he? Sadly still nowhere to put them as the promised ammo (in the shape of shelves) has still not made it through...really must get the chaps to sort out these supply lines.....

Further sallies

I managed to solve the mystery of who Napoleon is with the aid of Tristan Langlois writing in The Chap magazine. Clearly Napoleon is a Gravy Boat and the Prussian General Blucher, a fine Wurst. You see: my knowledge of Military History is improving in leaps and bounds.

Meanwhile the enemy within have occupied the Library barricading the entrance to my office/broom cupboard with tactical use of thick black curtains, fairy lights and DJ decks and inserted a disco floor where my users would normally sit around in the afternoons nodding off over a comforting volume of Churchill's greatest speeches.

I resorted to chairing a meeting of the History sub-committee, where I donned my best UN Blue Beret to hold the line between the Historian whose deadline had slipped yet again and the Committee Member who in lieu of overdue drafts, seemed intent on extracting blood money. I feel I negotiated an acceptable truce before retiring upstairs to find my budget under attack from the Accountant. This opened up a new front entirely and I had to perform some fancy manoeuvres in order to outwit him before he presented his version of 'my' budget to the Finance Committee.

I left the field unhurt with head held high ....and headed for the relative safety of a Zumba class commanded by a small but perfectly formed sinuous Greek general.

Next week I intend to re-enact the Battle of the Nile with Mr Langois' help and assorted props including Cheese Puffs, Petits Fours and a few Pina Coladas