That Old Book of Mine

Sunday is Funday. Well, it could be, given the right circumstances. Today I intended to try and do something that Hercules would have quailed at had it been one of his tasks. I was going to sort my room out. I'm getting a wee bit frustrated that my books are in no recognisable order, just randomly on shelves, the majority on their sides so I can put them all there. This is not how my books should be. But I also don't have enough shelves. The four walls in my room have been fitted with floor to ceiling shelving but it's still not enough. I've already decided that one wall in the hall will also have floor to ceiling shelving but, again, I don't think it will be enough. We're gonna have to get a bigger house. And, no, they're not going in the byre.

Another major sacrifice I have made several times over the years when moving is discarding magazines. For example, I was distraught back in 1984 when I had to dispose of twenty years of Punch and Private Eye, my National Geographic, National Lampoon, NME and Premiere magazines although I do keep any first issues (and last, in the case of Word) or those that have useful and informative articles (oh, that's always a difficult choice to filter) plus publications of historical interest that reflect the mores of that period (which makes the disposal of Punch and Private Eye even more galling). My blip today is one of those important magazines that was given to me by my grandmother (along with others, now I know where I got the hoarding from) and I picked up while “organising” today. Maybe I should have done this as a blip in July (the publication date) as it will be 100 years old then. Or maybe I should have rummaged for the one with the date relevant to today. Nah