We're taking a bit of a breather while the world rearranges its underpants. Meanwhile, the other blog is here.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Can you hear me, mother?

News of Bronwyn's Digby Moment has spread around the more irreverent pastures of the library service.

"I don't see why you couldn't get Rudyard Kipling, or W.E. Johns," says Frog.

"Or Enid Blyton," suggests Sybil.

"We could have a dead authors' evening at Dutch Bend Library!"

"I'm getting a message from the other side... Does the name Biggles mean anything to anybody? Ginger? Algy?"

"Mrs. Johnstone... I'm getting a message from Robert Louis Stevenson... He says that your cat Tiddles is happy on the other side..."

"You can laugh!" muttered Bronwyn. "You watch: he'll try to stop you putting on the puppet show in Spadespit because it's not David Blaine."

"That's alright. We can put a big box in the library and tell them that that's him."

"Now then, Mrs. Johnstone, it's up to you now. Are you going to take the money or will you open the box?"


Pat said...

Well at least he's caused some wit to be flying around - which can't be bad - better than the other stuff.

zmkc said...

You've got to think big - Shakespeare or nothing, surely?

Kevin Musgrove said...

Pat: this is true.

zmkc: he'd want us to pay his bus fare.

Tess Kincaid said...

How about Edna St. Vincent Millay? Maybe not. She's American.