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.

In which our brave Librarian enlists volunteer hoodies

http://www.napkinfoldingguide.com/03-birdofparadise/

So it's been a busy week in the barracks. The Catering Corps had another of their shindigs and built a barricade out of newly upholstered settees to prevent my usual attempts to sabotage their operations. On this occasion, I tried a new tactic: stealing the napkins and creating a scale model of Valhalla, but sadly this did not work as their guests were totally unaware of the cultural reference and assumed it was the Pompidou Centre, which they demolished with a relish I found frankly distasteful and then used said napkins to clean up the marmalade a careless waitress had spilled.

On a far more positive note: a retired general has offered support to the regiment in the form of a shiny new bookcase. This was excellent news and involved much excitement among junior members of the regiment (particularly those who - like me - had not spotted it was 'repro'). Let's hope some of the traditionalists don't
demand its removal at a later date! Sadly, in my eagerness to find a home for said shelter for troops of wandering books, I broke the Turkish general's tape-measure and - despite my offer of a two unused locks, complete with keys in compensation - he has not yet been pacified (I suspect his ulterior motive is that he quite fancied the bookcase for his office, but no matter).

Naturally installing said new piece of regimental artillery involved my having to move 1,000-odd soldiers (who for the sake of simplicity, I shall call Books) in order for the whole thing to work correctly, and this knowledge necessitated my having to come up with a strategy for the battle ahead. Having persuaded various members of the Household Cavalry (aka the Maintenance Team) to do the heavy lifting (despite the - by now - expected complaints from the Kosovan Hobbit), I managed to enlist a temporary worker (known to some as Offspring #Two) with the promised of a wage infinitely higher than that she would earn on Workfare. Only problem with this cunning plan was that she turned up in her Regimental Uniform (Jeans, Trainers and Hoody) which violated every regulation in the building and I had to sneak her in via the back entrance with a blanket over her head to avoid the Dress-code Klaxon going off. Anyway All's Well that Ends Well and I will report back next week as to whether any more outrages in the name of taste and decency  have taken place. Fingers crossed and toodle pip.

In which our brave Librarian makes peace with Germany but not with the Catering Corps

So I got into work nice and early this week with lots of plans in my head, only to find the Professor tucked neatly into a (newly re-upholstered) armchair, reading the day's papers.  Said professor - delightful fellow though he was, insisted on detaining me to discuss the latest developments in engineering and academic publishing, which I decided almost counted as work, so I passed a pleasant half-hour with him before going about my business.

This included writing a digitization strategy for the benefit of the chaps over in the Indies and writing an essay on the activities of a certain Captain Burgess who wrote over 100 letters of complaint to the CO here back in 1873. Needless to say, he was eventually removed from his post, but not before a great debate was had on whether having a cigar in one's mouth was proof that one was actually smoking (a dispute that foreshadowed a legal argument involving a certain President Clinton and his friend Monica Lewinsky by some a century or so I believe).


Progress was further slowed this week by the activities of my old nemesis: the Catering Corps, who strategically placed a Cash Bar just outside my luxury office suite (aka the Broom Cupboard) preventing my egress into the main body of my library. I contemplated a raid on said bar, but was dissuaded from doing so by the presence of Russell the Barman, a man whose charms I was completely disarmed by and who I do not want to treat as an enemy in case I ever need a sneaky G&T.

By the way: I suspect the enemy of trying to infiltrate the Library Committee, as a new member has appeared whose former career as a German U-boat commander has put some of the old chaps on their guard. Not me though: forgive and forget I say - we're all friends now (except the Catering Corps of course).

Toodle pip

In which our Brave Librarian liberates Paris...maybe

So it's been a triumphant week in the Barracks. I finally managed to evacuate the whole  Platoon of Ancient Ledgers from their unsatisfactory accommodation at the back of my Luxury Office Suite (aka the Broom-cupboard which may - or may not - be shortly transformed into a disabled toilet). This feat was achieved mainly thanks to a Kosovo-Albanian regiment - aka - The Maintenance Team who moaned constantly, despite my attempts to distract them with the music of a popular brass band from their homeland:

fanfara tirana v transglobal underground






Anyway, the old boys look very happy in their new home and the Luxury Office Suite was temporarily uncluttered. It felt like the Liberation of Paris - give or take a few French people - and I am finally able to breathe the fresh air of...mouse droppings and carpet moth residue. No matter that it's a poky office - it's my office to fill with whatever regiments I choose in my Grand Design of making the Library look....well - more like a Library really.

Meanwhile my quest to make sense of the archive continues and while some members looked more than a little frayed at the edges, most are happy to be filed away, and gave their Name  Rank and Serial Number without any need for interrogation or subterfuge. The only notable exception was a splendid series of photograph albums from a mysterious character who does not appear on any of the Membership Records. I may have to call my friends at MI5 to assist on this one.


Back in the Indies, Maj Gordon Gin-soaked of the eponymous Highland Regiment reappeared after a few weeks break, exuding a faint whiff of battlefield action. He was, it turns out, so delighted with my Cricket-related display of Books and other Artefacts,  that he had to take a few weeks of to drink Gin and declare war on a small battalion of ants who had invaded his bathroom (hence the battlefield whiff).

Next week I shall continue my efforts to liberate legions of oppressed ledgers from bondage (though, bearing in mind the fact that they are mainly comprised of elderly English Gents, that may not be wise, or even desirable)

Until next time....

In which our Brave Librarian rescues several old soldiers and fights of Rowley Birkin

Well it's been a busy old week in the Barracks. I am negotiating re-locating a whole platoon of really elderly veterans henceforth to be known as the Old Ledgers of 1862. If the move goes according to plan, I shall be able to put some of my finest soldiers on display: they are currently languishing in the office owing to the CO fearing they are too valuable to put in the lending front-line and frankly, some of them are somewhat champing at the bit (despite being frayed at the edges...and inside too in some cases). Tomes like the Armies of India and the Seven Pillars of Wisdom just can't wait to get out there and connect with their readers, and I for one, am determined not to hold them back

Meanwhile over in the Indies, General Gordon Gin-soaked of the eponymous Highland Regiment, seems to be on shore-leave and has failed to show his face for some weeks now, despite my attempt to entice him in with a cunningly fashioned display of books on the history of Cricket. He will be most upset if he misses it, especially since next month's theme: Explorers, is a subject which I happen to know he is particularly keen to avoid, having got into an argument once with Sir Richard Burton's widow about whether he, or Dr Livingstone was the best role-model for sensible footwear. The row was rather abruptly settled when Peter O'Toole entered the room dressed as Laurence of Arabia, sweeping aside all opposition and declared the contest invalid.

I was somewhat compensated for missing Gin-Soaked by a visit from Rowley Birkin QC, on fine form as ever. He felt it was his duty to warn me about the impending Islamic Apocalypse. When I told him I thought he was being somewhat alarmist, he instead decided to regale me with tales of his ex-wives and the problems of alimony, before attempting to recruit me to his harem. Naturally I refused, citing a whole pile of un-catalgoued histories of the East India Company as a pressing concern. He was most accommodating and left me with a recording of a recent TV appearance he made. Enjoy it at your leisure
Rowley Birkin on form as ever

Fifth Columns, Warplanes and Internet Pornography: the Real War starts

Well chaps - it looks like things are about to get serious: the Phony War is over and the Real War starts. The previous skirmishes have a been a mere picnic. Which - come to think of it - may explain why the Catering Corps' weapon of choice thus far has been elderly diners armed with American Express cards. Now they are playing dirty (in fact as I write, they appear to have recruited a primate to distract me with Adam and the Ant videos). I will stand firm: the battle must be fought - and will be won.

So I am not sure who they are teaming up with now: is it the Library Mice who are angry that I have destroyed two of their leaders with the power of Poison and a pair of Marigold gloves? Or is that Kaiser Friederich Wilhlem von Bog-Brush not - as we had been led to believe - a kosher member of our Volunteer Resistance movement? Is he using his brilliant encryption skills to double cross us? Might that explain why at least three recently purchased volumes of World War One memoirs have mysteriously vanished without being signed out in the Loans Book (and no - before you ask - there are no computers in the library. The CO doesn't want young recruits to be tempted online by the siren lure of naked swords and bloody women... or was it?.....anyway, I'm sure you catch my drift)

What - you may well ask - has led me to come to this pass? Well: this week - as has been my habit of late - I was searching through the deepest darkest recesses of my Luxury Office Suite (aka the Broom-Cupboard, which may - or may not - be destined to be turned into a toilet for disabled veterans) and what did I find? Only a series of around thirty original blueprints for war-planes. I telephoned the most senior officer I could find, but he was unable to fathom out who the infiltrator might be. I may well have to resort to bringing in the RAF Museum, although a volunteer member of the Flying Corps has already expressed a keen interest. Come to think of it: have his credentials been thoroughly checked? Could he be our Fifth Columnist? In the words of that dashing young Fox Mulder Chappie: 'Trust No One'. The battle for the soul of the Library continues and the Librarian lives to Die Another Day.

Of Mice, Men and Archives

Ye gods, will this war never end? The barracks has been under attack from yet another army this past fortnight: a smaller furrier enemy than usual, viz a family of mice. I have heard them for several weeks scratching about behind several dozen ancient leather tomes but not - until last week - seen the buggers. Fortunately young Tim from the Catering Corps has had the foresight to use the old entrapment technique and the furry scoundrels have been gorging themselves on poison with the rather unfortunate result that they've been literally dying in front of me. I have had to make extensive use of the old Marigold gloves to catch the buggers by their tails and dispose of htem in a humane and environmentally friendly fasion.

Needless to say this state of affairs did not impress the delightful visiting WRENS from the London Metropolitan Archives who muttered something about 'suitable environments' and 'integrity of the collection'. Since when has anyone ever questioned the morals of a bundle of minute books and ledgers I ask?

Anyway that all went off fairly smoothly, but last night I had to vacate the place, as the Men from the Ministry (of Defence no less) had decided to hold an extremely Top Secret meeting in my library. Apparently they are having another go at the old Entente Cordiale and had arranged an assignation with various of their French counterparts. Just don't spill  Ribena on any of my books eh chaps or there will be hell to pay.