Clippings

Two ladies of a certain age:

"The council didn't empty my green bin last week because of the strike so I won't be able to mow the lawn for a month because they won't take the grass away."

"Couldn't you put the grass clippings down your trousers and scatter it about by dropping it a bit at a time like they do with the diggings out from the tunnel? Ask Sybil about it."

Schadenfreude

Well this amuses me anyway...

Mary's told Frog that he's got to deputise for her in a meeting on Thursday.

"When is it?"

"Thursday."

"Where is it?"

"You'll have to contact Derek in the Regeneration Team to get the details."

Almost as good as Readers' Digest's Big Prize Draw

That nice man Can Bass 1 has nominated me for a prize, which is very gratifying. I'm constantly amazed by the responses I get from the readership of what is, essentially, a sad old man's prolonged whinge about his workplace.

I, in turn, have to nominate a short list of people.

The choice is tricky because there are a lot of interesting places out there written by talented people. This struck me last weekend when I made the mistake of buying a copy of The Grauniad. The quality of the articles in the supplement sections compared badly with the blogosphere.

Here's my very short list then:

1. Ellis Nadler's Sketchbook is a wonderfully varied collection of his sketches, cartoons and workings-out. Good draughtsmanship, a sense of humour and a skill for the macabre, it's well worth a look.


2. Gorilla Banana's "The Japing Ape" is a safe laugh; if his observations of the human condition doesn't get you then the commentary from his rather peculiar audience will.


3. No Good Boyo provides us with an almost definitive account of middle-aged-blokedom. Anyone with a good degree in Bat Maintenance and Ruthenian Studies can't be all bad.


4. The Topiary Cow's blog is a gentle meander through life. There's a lot of pudding in there lately, which suggests that somebody needs a holiday.


5. And if you work in a library you have to nod to The Librarian's Guide To Etiquette.

Apologies to those I don't nominate this time; please don't think badly of me! I could easily have listed a few dozen.

Polly-wolly-doodle all the day

"Those DVDs need to be on the shelves at Roadkill by Saturday," Mary tells Noreen.

"Well... Seeing as they've sat there since January and you still haven't decided what you want doing with them, nor how you want them processing and you still haven't sorted the invoice out yet, I'd say best of luck to you in getting it done," replies Noreen.

And we still don't know if we're licenced to loan them.

Sic transit...

Bronwyn. Maybelle and Frog are trying to do the preparations for this weekend's Festival. Frog asks Lippie if her van would be available so that they could borrow it to take the stuff over to the stalls. Unfortunately he asks her within Mary's hearing.

"You won't need the van. You can take it all over in the trolleys. It won't be a problem if it's fine."

"I'll just check the weather forecast..." says Frog. "It says it'll be fine most of this week, turning to rain by Friday."

"I don't believe in forecasts," says Mary.

That's Mary 'Oh look, it's raining and I've got the wrong shoes on' Dunroamin.

Two days camping in a car park

Joy be unconfined.

Frog and I have been wondering why the word "library" appeared in the fliers for the Helminthdale Feel Good Festival that have been littering the pubs in the town centre for the past three weeks. We rather hoped that some other poor fool had been involved (given our internal communications we wouldn't now about it until a few months later). Poor old Frog.

This morning, Mary told Frog, Bronwyn and Maybelle that they're going to be staffing a stall this weekend. As if they're not up past their eyes in stuff as it is.

"If you three are out with the hippies, how are they keeping the library open on Saturday?"

"I'm now past caring," replies Frog. "Let Mary sort it out with Doreen."

Signed, sealed and lost in the post

The Acq. Team have been required to fill in the 54-page Pay and Grading Form twice in the past four years. That's for the Pay and Grading process that all councils in the country completed by April (ha ha).

Mary tells them that they and Bronwyn have to fill the form in again and it's got to be submitted again by Friday next week.

"Can't they just tell us what they want us to say so that we give them the "right" answers this time?" asks Noreen.

Nothing better to do, obviously.

Drum roll, please

Overheard:

"Mr. X has still got that book on memory training overdue."

"He'll have forgotten he hasn't brought it back."

Helpful

Thelma asks a question:

"I'm planning ahead for the re-opening of Epiphany Library. I think we need some sort of event or activity for each day in the first week, to make sure it's launched properly. I've already made arrangements to pencil in story times and class visits. Have any of you any other ideas?"

Almost too easy a target:

"Isn't it a bit soon to be planning? Usually we wait until the day after the re-opening, just in case the counter needs re-doing."

"How about a book sale?"

"Policy Team could give an activity planning masterclass."

Moebius strip

I'm sure I've been here before...

T.Aldous is surveying the wreckage that is backstage Helminthdale. Again.

"We really must do somethings about all these boxes."

He says. Again.

"Can you do something about them?"

He asks me. Again. This time I don't point out that I'm not responsible for the contents. Nor that we wouldn't have half of them if he hadn't insisted that a couple of libraries send their surplus stock here instead of to Dutch Bend or Catty. Nor that the other half are only here because half of Policy Team still haven't decided what they're going to do with the contents. And I don't use the words "arson," "skip" or "bollocks." I just say:

"You're right: something needs to be done about these boxes."

I knew I was in a dangerous mood, but hadn't realised it was that bad.

Kiddies' Korner

Flagged up by Marianne on the MLxperience blog...

Marianne apologised in advance for this link. I have no such scruples.

In fact, I have every intention of suggestion that Frog buys all these titles as a circulating collection.

Paris Fashion Week caught me off-guard

I notice that two dozen rolls of silver mirror film are being sent to Spadespit Library.

"I think they're turning the staff into Cybermen," I'm told.

Consolation

A long and painful working day is relieved by the discovery that Jimmy Clitheroe does appear in the Dictionary of National Biography after all. So that's all right then.

Gun law

We've frequently, and rightly, been told off by inspectors for the number of prohibition notices we have in our Reference Libraries:

Do not eat or drink in the library.

Do not use mobile phones in the library.

Sit properly in the library.

Now what did your mother tell you about doing that? Stop it at once.

et cetera.

I'd love it if we had one as reported by the Woeful Librarian!

Flexible goalposts

The week before the strike, Frog checked out the position as far as part-time staff are concerned and was advised that he should tell Kitty that as she doesn't work Wednesdays she would only be docked pay for the Thursday she was on strike.

Coming back in today, Mary takes Frog to one side and tells him:

"I've been going through Kitty's clock cards and I've found that she's worked two Wednesdays in the past fifty-two weeks so she'll have to lose a day's pay for Wednesday."

"One was when she came in to do a storytime in the park for an event you arranged with the Woodcraft Folk and the other was an evening event for Senebene Library's Reading Week."

"It doesn't matter, the rules say that if she works Wednesdays she has to lose a day's pay for the strike."

"Well you're telling her that, then, because I'm not."

Like so many of the rules of personnel management we labour under in the Library Service, one strongly suspects that this would come as some surprise to people in Human Resources. We happen to know that HR wouldn't spend any time going through the clock cards because we found out the other week that we're the only part of the council that insists on archiving them "for audit purposes."

It would serve Mary right if Kitty refuses to do any more events on a Wednesday.

Melt

The air-conditioning is up the chute again and the heating's kicked back in again, which makes it a very jolly holiday here in Helminthdale Library. Inside the building we're wilting like hothouse flowers waiting for some retired gentleman to hire a gumshoe to look after his daughter's men friends. Outside it's a rough October day, the latest of many this summer. There is a tang of mildew about the place.

Not having direct access to any of the fans which have appeared by magic out of one of the magic metal cupboards, my office isn't pleasant. Not that it ever is, but today it's foetid. Or, as Sybil warned me as I clocked in this morning:

"It's like a steveadore's jockstrap in there today."

I bow to her superior experience.

Seth opens a couple of windows, which is something we're not allowed to do under the terms of the lease. It offers little respite, creating a weather front just above Frog's desk which leads him to retreat into the Acq. Team's area before he's struck by lightning.

To cap it all, the staff at the municipal incinerator are trying to catch up with the backlog of offerings caused by two days' strike action. The chimneys can't cope with all that smoke and torrential rain so everything downwind of the place (which is to say, the whole of the town centre) smells of burnt plimsolls and cabbage.

We asked, you answered

I asked: "How will we use The World's Biggest Whiteboard?"

• One poor, deluded soul thought we would be using it to map the current state-of-play of the hundred and one library projects that have been visited upon us. It doesn't really sound like us, does it?
  
• Some of the more creative elements in my readership thought we'd be using it for creating a huge mural drawing of Tinga and Tucka on The Wibbly Wobbly Way. In a sane and just world, so we would.
  
• In a sad reflection that my readership might have gone native, a massive 85% of you thought we'd be hiding it completely behind dirty great cupboards bought for to house pre-owned envelopes.

A moment of high culture: Willie Wombat playing the recorder!

Untold riches

I don't feel so bad about having to go back to work again tomorrow. I've had a letter from the Readers' Digest telling me that I may have won a substantial amount of money in their free cash draw.

Storm and stress

Taking advantage of the strike days to do a bit of Christmas shopping, I bump into Ken Barmy in Hannigan's Truss Boutique. As usual, we swap horror stories about our respective workplaces, with some of his being hair-raising. Eventually, I have to ask the question.

"Ken, why on earth do you stay there?"

"Well, you know that mad idea young men tend to have, that they can change the world?"

"Yes..."

"I still have it. I reckon that if I can change our place then the world is a piece of piss."

"I suppose so..."

"Well, if we don't change, we're fucked."

"So you really reckon you can do it then?"

"Oh no. We're fucked."

I've got a counselling session tomorrow afternoon. It sounds like I'm not the only one who should have one.

There's always a question, sir

A note left on my desk while I was off-site:

The printer has given up the ghost

No signature. No location. No idea.

No chance. Straight into the bin.