Hello old bird,
Us is doing well us is. Our chief, having retired at New Year, has been more in evidence now than they were when they were on the payroll. So far we have had six (count them: six) farewell parties. Maundy Thursday was the final and absolute last day, marked by a celebration lunch with a few cronies.
I had bet the caretaker a pound that we'd have fourteen last days this month. Utter, utter folly: we've had five so far and it's only the 9th. This is the conversation we had on Thursday afternoon:
"This is my last day in. I can't keep coming back here to finish sorting things out."
"And how many times have I heard that before?"
"I mean it: this is my last day in."
"Good. You wash your hands of it and leave them to it."
"Yes, I'll be glad to. See you tomorrow."
I promise you on my mother's harmonica that this is true.
In my experience there is an element of the irrational in all librarians. Logic would dictate that this would reach its greatest expression of lunacy in their chieftains.
8 comments:
Are all these retired cheiftans holding regular meetings with each other?
Do they have a retired secretary to take notes?
Do they send apologies if they can't attend?
(word verification = joyism...)
I once knew a girl who could tongue-stuff a harmonica quicker than a dragoon and his musket.
We lost touch when she became embroiled with the 3rd series of 'Come Dine With Me'.
Macy: there is a reason why CILIP - the librarians' Professional association - had a Retired Members Section.
(Joyism - excellent!)
Jimmy: a tragic end for so much promise.
I'm wondering if these two chaps who 'never can say goodbye' are lonely bachelors or widowers. I'm sure a wife would have put a stop to it.
My comment has bounced back.
(I posted something here earlier and it seems to have got lost...) You don't need me to tell you that there's a Messianic theme running through this and that Maundy Thursday should have been the final and absolute last day, and that all you then needed was an Assistant Librarian with 30 pieces of silver in his pocket giving the nod to the men in white coats from the local maximum-security care home.
Pat: No, both married. God help the spouses.
Apologies for the blockage, I've been fighting a spammer.
Gadjo: I hadn't noticed that vibe. How spooky.
(apologies to yourself, too!)
Post a Comment