On the shelf

The day didn't start well when as I was passing under some scaffolding on my way to the bus stop, a builder fossicking about on an upper level sent a shower of sand down through the gaps in the boards and on to my freshly shampoo-ed head. Pah.

On my way home I encountered that nasty little sleet shower, so didn't get the camera out. Hence all I found in it was this motley collection of books on the shelf above the desk at work. Some are mine, but some are not and I don't even know where they came from. Some I have studied, some I've never even opened. Isn't life strange?