Eggsasperating

Frog's set up an Easter activity for all the libraries next week: each library's been sent a six laminated cut-out Easter eggs plus a laminated quiz sheet and some competition forms. The idea is that staff "hide" the eggs somewhere in the library and children use the clues in the quiz sheet to find the eggs and answer the questions.

T.Aldous collars Frog:

"Who's supplying all these eggs and who's clearing up if any of them are broken?"

Alexander Graham Bell afflicted with laryngitis on the occasion of his inventing the telephone

I keep asking why the phrase "networked CD-ROMs" keeps cropping up in proposed notices and publicity materials for the library. Our resident Harry Potter look-alike (and resident Bungle Bear think-alike) explains:

"Well you will be networking CD-ROMs on the People's Network computers won’t you?"

"Well I could, except there aren’t any CD-ROMs to network because no one’s bought any."

"Can’t you put BBC Webwise on it?"

"Yes, but it won’t be available on all the People’s Network workstations. There aren’t 122 licences for the networking software."

"Can’t you buy some?"

"I don't have any money. Besides which, I’m not prepared to make a case for funding an additional 110 licences on the basis that you’d quite like to use them to network CD-ROMs you haven’t identified and haven’t bought in over six years' non-use of a CD-ROM network."

"Well, couldn’t you start small by just using the licences you’ve got to set up the CD-ROM network just in Helminthdale, say, and make Webwise available that way?"

"No. Don’t imagine that on top of all the other work I’m going to be expected to do over the next month I’m going to do a crash install of a system no one’s bothered with for the past six years just to make one free CD-ROM available at libraries that already have it on stand alone PCs."

Any clues as to why the Audit Commission say we score poorly on IT and marketing?

Boiling the bottoms of chrysanthemums

Today it is laptops. Went to a seriously boring meeting this morning at which some woman from aforementioned IT dept was giving a presentation. Now if I hadn't witnessed this due to enforced participation I wouldn't have believed it. I walked into the room to be greeted by plaintive cries of "do you know anything about laptops?"

"Maybe"

"Where do I plug my projector in?" remember this is someone who works in the IT Dept. Opening the panel at the back I plugged in projector and sat down.

"What about this?" She said holding up the power lead. Again I plugged it in and sat down.

"Do I need this?" She continued thrusting the comms lead in my direction. Repeat previous manouvre. And finally, and again this is someone from the IT dept,

"Where do I switch it on?"

Communing with imps

Daisy Duck had begged Seth not to take over any more boxes of books, bits of furniture and antediluvian sundries from the desks of librarians long-dead until they'd managed to sort themselves out after the panicky reopening. This afternoon Seth tools up with another vanload.

"What's this? I asked you not to bring any more yet."

"I'm really, really sorry, I've got to do it. T.Aldous' orders. He says you've no right to talk to me and that I've to do as he says because he's in charge not you."

The next time winter vomiting sickness hits the families of Dutch Bend I can see T.Aldous having to ring round to persuade people to do extra hours and put together a timetable for the five libraries Daisy ends up being responisble for (in lieu of the appointment of a Group Librarian to the post that's been vacant for three years).

General joy

I'm up to my ears in CIPFA stats; People's Network's going tits-up; I've got a thousand orders to roll over with no Procurement Librarian to share the burden and no possibility of using a batch rollover because of the way we do standing orders (my, they were fun, thank God Jimmy Huddersfield came in for a day gratis!)(I think he's crackers); Dutch Bend Library re-opened today after six weeks' closure (don't ask why re-open in a mad rush on a Thursday instead of letting staff do things properly and opening the following Monday); I'm climbing over boxes to get into my office because 20% of the year's new stock arrived in the past three weeks; I've been badgered about details of the moving of two libraries to new (crap) locations; we may or may not be moving to a new regional library system in the next month depending on somebody staying still for one moment and making a decision; and I'm trying to take up some of the MLA online reference offers by the deadlines despite not knowing whether or not there's any money for doing it. T.Aldous walks in and says:

"I've been worrying about Tench Road [closed since the beginning of January for repairs and it now turns out it'll be closed until the end of June]. If somebody was due to bring a book back the week the library closed and they brought it back to Tench Road when it re-opens then they'll just get four days' fines. If they bring it back to any other library then they'll get weeks' worth of fines. What will we do?"

"If they could bring the book back to any other library they could have done so any time since January. If they couldn't then there's not an issue."

"I'm just thinking: what would happen at the other libraries?"

We've only been doing things this way for sixteen years. We don't have enough problems as it is so he's casting about to invent some new ones.

I think my poker face must have deserted me. He left the office.

Plan view

In the space of half an hour Jim Lettuce and I find seven strategic plans for the library service for last financial year alone. Strangely enough, none of their outcomes include our being up shit creek, unable to open the doors without having to ask people to do extra hours with demoralised staff running round disguising the cracks like Preparation H on a cheap actress.

Please don't tell your friends...

All the staff from Dutch Bend turn up at Helminthdale as instructed by T.Aldous.

Julia rings down to Mary to ask if she's got anything for them to do as she can't cope with having so many staff upstairs in Lending.

It's clichéd to be cynical at Christmas

That's just what we need:

Frog and I have repaired to the Duck and Pullet for a pub lunch. We look out of the window: it's snowing.

My Fair Hound of the Baskervilles

"You need to think about changing the shelving sequence before you re-open on Thursday," T.Aldous tells Daisy Duck. This is six weeks after the library's closed, mind.

"What do you want?" asks Daisy.

"Consult staff and see what they think."

The staff are consulted and unanimously decide to stick with the status quo because they're all knackered and just want the place sorted before Thursday morning. Especially seeing as T.Aldous wants everyone up at Helminthdale on Tuesday afternoon as the heating will be off. (It was OK for them to all be working with no heating last week, mind). Daisy passes on the result of the consultation and she and her team get back to work.

For the next two hours T.Aldous wanders round like Banquo's ghost, muttering to each one she passes: "I don't know why you're putting those there. Now's the time to come up with a new shelving plan."

How nobody said: "sod off," I do not know.

Smiling and laughing and looking so fine I don't think you knew you were in this song

Pansy Potter's moving from Epiphany to Gypsy Cream Library, opposite the football ground. (Did I remember to tell you about the ducks in the car park?) When we were talking the other day I suggested that we do a stock check some time soon as there's stuff on the catalogue that I'm praying isn't there any more. She rings:

"You know all that old rubbish you thought hadn't been withdrawn properly and needs taking off the catalogue?"

"Yes..."

"It's here!!!"

Charlotte Green reads the Shipping Forecast for gentlemen of a certain age

I pop into Dutch Bend to reinstall the PCs and check up on the visitor counters (gah gah gah gah gah!!!)

Absent-mindedly I put my hand on the top of a shelf to steady myself as I mess around with a network point. The top of a 1970's wood and slat steel shelf unit holds just over a pint of water.

One o'clock jump

Seth's down at Dutch Bend helping to put up the last of the shelving and the counters and the buckets to catch the water from the new heating pipes because the caretaker there has slipped a disk trying to move heavy furniture around busy workmen while T.Aldous is on the hurry up. The man himself turns up to view progress. Just at the point where Seth is up to his armpits in a dodgy skeleton that may become a double-sized shelf unit T.Aldous says:

"You need to change the clocks now. People won't know what time it is."

It was suggested that it might be time to go.

Winter's discontent made glorious

Well I'll stand stuffing. The Acquisitions team have done it.

Just at this point another thirty-nine boxes turn up: a last-minute panic order by Mary. Non-fiction for Noddy. T.Aldous sourly surveys the scene (he hates piles of boxes that aren't book sale), tuts and tells the team: "Well, it had to be bought now. It can't be helped," and walks off. None of us have the first idea what he's on about.

Putting up a hook to hang my hopes upon

Desperately tidying up the catalogue prior to digging out stock statistics for CIPFA next weekend when T.Aldous tools up.

"We haven't withdrawn enough books. Can you do something about it?"

If I had a budget I'd hire a skip.

Sturm und drang

The carpet fitters have finished at Dutch Bend, after T.Aldous stuck his oar in about the best way to move the shelves and counter out of the way. The staff are now under pressure to get the shelving put up and restocked p.d.q. so the first lot of boxes of books arrived back from Pantagruel Library this lunchtime. Unfortunately, the carpet's not settled yet and the heating workmen are still working on the valves the only place to put the boxes is where the counter should go. Once the boxes are on the shelves the counter can go back. Except that the counter's in the way of the shelves.

Daisy Duck rings T.Aldous and begs for no more boxes to come back to Dutch Bend yet while they get sorted out. Seth's just rung to let her know that T.Aldous has told him to pick up another vanload.

"We need to have the library re-opened as soon as possible. There are too many boxes of books lying around in libraries," says God.

Jumpers for goalposts

Two libraries closed and their staff available for to provide cover and there's just one member of staff in the lending library in the main library here in Helminthdale.

Julia tells the caretaker not to open the doors until she says so.

"It's late now and they're queueing at the door!"

"I don't care. Wait until I tell you."

"What if they start banging on the door again?"

"Ignore them."

An excellent way of ensuring visitor figures and customer satisfaction soar ever skywards.

Say, does anyone know how to Madison?

The heating pipes and new boiler have been installed at Dutch Bend, though not actually commissioned. This is the point at which T.Aldous insists that the carpet fitters get into the library to lay carpets around men in big boots and dripping heating valves.

Bottleneck sweater

A long T.Aldous monologue ends with him saying

"And there just aren't enough people around, especially with Julia off sick and Mary on leave..."

I was just about to sympathise when I remembered that there aren't enough people because he's left one management post vacant for three years and another two vacant for twenty-one months.

Mood indigo

Someone in Helminthdale's lending library has locked the password again. The password changed yesterday but nobody told anyone who's in today and God alone knows what effort is made at recording these things for staff information. I get the password unlocked and pass the word. It's now locked again; someone new came in at lunchtime and blah blah blah...

Julia rings Mary to find out when the password was changed as she knows nothing about it (why Mary should when Julia's in charge up there I do not know).

"Can you have a word with Julia about this password?" asks Mary.

"I can have a number of words with Julia about this password," I reply.

"Don't worry, you're busy. I'll deal with it."

Light, power & speed

I have to squeeze my way past 56 boxes of incoming books to get to my desk. Last year T.Aldous claimed that the reason why we only bought 62% of the standard target stock was because of vacancies in the Acquisitions team. They were very, very offended: the real reason was because T.Aldous froze the book fund until August while he dicked about with ideas about targetting the spending that never got any further than glimpses of godly notions. So they're damned if he's getting away with it again: even with two posts vacant for a year or more and another for six months the team (both of them) are determined that the service is going to meet the standard and in so doing demolish another of T.Aldous' pet excuses: "if the standard could be met last year with just two of them left in post, why aren't you on target this year?"

The plan involves receiving more than 20% of this year's stock in the next two weeks. Good trick if they can do it!

Unpage the colours!

Deep joy.

As if we don't have enough to worry about, T.Aldous has decided that seeing as how Dutch Bend is closed for big plumbing we can get a new carpet in, too. We know it's going to be Sage Blue but by gum will we waste a lot of time getting there. Sigh...

A place of delightful prospects

I'm in the lift with Seth. He says:

"Has anyone told you the printer's been stolen from Epiphany?"

"No. When?"

"Monday."

"Oh."

"Thought you'd like to know."

"Yes, I suppose so."

You only busk when it's Xmas

T. Aldous is giving Daisy Duck a hard time for letting two library assistants from the same library have the same day off. No matter that the staff covering the absence will both have worked there recently, know what they're doing and are extremely capable. No matter that long-standing vacancies mean that you can't predict where any two members of staff anywhere in the Borough will be three days running. Oh no. As T. Aldous explained:

"What would happen if it were Christmas? You need to think before you act."

Rumour in cuneiform

Spring is in the air... the daffodils are starting to show yellow in the fields; the mistle thrushes are at it like knives in the cherry trees in next door's garden; and rumours are skittering around the consequences of the proposed library closures which nobody's actually seen and nobody will admit to but which we all know about one way or another.

Unlike the old days, even if the council actually did agree to close any libraries (and sentiment aside it needs to close at least four) it isn't as easy as them going for the line of least resistance; or putting one in the eye of the opposition party; or holding a grudge against a library assistant who wouldn't let you off the charge for a lost book because you're a councillor. The council's committed to trying to meet as many public library standards as possible (because of their commitment to the public service ethos in general and the public library agenda in particular and nothing to do with meeting audit commission targets or getting ticks in boxes to make sure the Rate Support Grant comes in sweetly), so the opening hours; book loans and visitors lost in the cuts have to be made up elsewhere. So it makes sense to finally let go of libraries which are in terminal decline and reallocate their resources someplace where they could be used. Like having all the branch libraries open in the afternoon to get the after-school trade. Needless to say, this being Helminthdale this won't happen in a million years but you can dream.

The latest rumour is that there'll just be five "superlibraries" in the Borough delivering services the like as you could barely conceive. The day that Helminthdale has the money, political will and project management skills to conceive and deliver five superlibraries they'll find the Pope singing bawdy songs atop a Belisha beacon in a backstreet in Irlam.

Paper chases

A chat with Liz at Gunsmoke Avenue Library amuses me. She's taken to buying the newspaper for the library herself, having given up with the newsagent.

"I'd keep having to chase him for an invoice so that we could pay it. In the end he said to me: 'can you do me an invoice?' So I wrote one and he lost it. I did another and he forgot to submit it. I did lists of the papers and magazines we'd had off him, including the dates and prices, and he kept losing them. In the end I gave up. Forty-five pence a day is worth it for not having to make lists up for him."

Life just kissed you "hello"

Betty Comstock, who's old enough to know better, was wearing a low-cut blouse at the counter today. She leant forward to hand some books to a little lad who turned to his mum and said:

"Mummy... Why has that lady got a bum on her chest?

Milky drinks and Sudafeds

Daisy Dormouse, the reference librarian from Dutch Bend, collars me.

"Is it true that we're getting some more PCs?"

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous. How are we to cope with any more PCs?"

As half of their time is spent dealing with people who want to get onto the People's Network, find all the PCs in use and then complain or book a later session or both I should have thought it would be a bit of a help.

And if we were to act on January's reference use survey which confirmed that 73% of all references used by the public were on the shelves behind the counter and had to be asked for then the reference librarians would have the time to do a bit more than just be glorified cybercafe receptionists and checkout girls.

I used to keep wickets for the Quakers in my Joy Division oven gloves

A colleague reminds me of the old joke:

An artist, a designer and a council architect are at a bar and they get talking about women. The artist pipes up:

"I tell you, woman must have been created by an artist: who else would have created such beauty?"

"Ah no, woman must have been created by a designer: who else would have created such form and function?"

"No, you're both wrong. Woman was created by a council architect."

"How do you make that out?"

"Who else would put a recreation area next to a sewage outlet?"

In church hall if wet

T. Aldous' turn for Noddery: he turns up at the Community Centre for a site meeting about the new library there and finds an art class in the room but no architects. Turns out they forgot to come to the party.

I used to be a babysitter but there's not much call for squashed babies these days

The people counter dash takes me to Noddy, first of four stops for the day. It doesn't go well. To begin with, the equipment for transferring the data from the counter to the staff PC, where it is turned into a useful spreadsheet, is missing. No big deal, the kit was installed in the midst of last autumn's mad extravaganza and like as not has been tidied away somewhere fatal. Happens all the time: the way things drag on around here it's a constant wonder that we ever find anything. As it happened I had another library's kit on me so's I could demonstrate how to do the monthly count. It goes downhill from here...

"Isn't it wireless? What's the point of that? I may as well just make a note of the number on the counter."

is the opening conversational gambit. I tried to explain that the data is a lot more detailed than that and tried to demonstrate this by downloading the data and opening the spreadsheet. My audience wasn't with me. I'm used to having to break off things like this so that staff can deal with customers -- we have to have our priorities right -- but I started to lose patience when the staff clutsered at one end of the counter while I was stood at the other end.

"Have I finished here?"

"Yes, you've finished."

I don't know what I've done to warrant all this, I'm just the guy who's had this dumped on him at the last minute and is wasting time he's not got trying to demonstrate something that's actually extremely important to them. Whatever.

As I'm packing up the caretaker starts up:

"They keep saying they've got no money but they can find it to waste on things like that."

I explain that as she knows fine well there's more goes on in the library than just the issuing of books and it's important that we can demonstrate that the library's earning its keep.

"It's just so that the council can economise isn't it? How come my council tax has gone up so much this year?"

Perhaps because people like you don't like the idea of the council economising love. Like an idiot I try to explain that the Rate Support Grant's not clever to begin with and that the government keeps foisting new services and targets on councils without providing the money to cover them; and that Helminthdale in particular is bad at performance monitoring and so misses out on some additional funding.

"Are you saying that some councils down south get more money than Helminthdale?"

"Yes."

"It snows in Dorset you know. You can't beat me in an argument. You can't win."

"I don't give a stuff. I don't have to win anything. You asked me a question, I gave you an answer."

At which point it occurred to me to wonder what the Hell I thought I was doing wasting my time standing at a public counter having this conversation. Irritated beyond measure and filled with self-disgust at the whole waste of time that was this visit I made my exit.

Gug nunc

A worrying conversation with a supplier prompts this correspondence:

4:32pm 6th March 2006

Hi Arthur,
You know those online reference subscriptions that I had to select and cost for you to order at the last minute the other week? Were they actually ordered?
Kevin


10:25 07 March 2006

Hi Kevin,

No, but they could be tomorrow if we still have the funding.

Arthur

I suppose it's better than "next week," but tomorrow never comes.

Restless legs

Yet another last-minute dash: this time to fit electronic people counters in all our libraries by 1st April. The equipment was fitted in most libraries at Xmas, I'm now running round to install the software that downloads the data and converts it into useful spreadsheets. The kit works on an electric beam: it counts the number of interruptions then divides the result by four (a two-legged person going in and coming out). T.Aldous told everyone who would listen, and many who had no such intention, that someone walking past with a ladder would count as a dozen people. The Chief Executive told Warner Baxter that he needs to schedule regular inspections of the ceiling and lights in all our libraries.

I've just downloaded the data for Epiphany Library. Epiphany is halfway between Helminthdale town centre and the head of the u-shaped glacial valley that forms the eastern end of the Borough. The library building sits on the main road into town forming a sort of protecting barrier between the local shopping centre and a four-lane highway. The bleak winds off the Pennines are funnelled down the valley and pick up speed down the road before hitting Epiphany admidships. Being built by an Helminthdale Council architect, the leeward side of the library is made of solid brick and the windward side is glass and steel struts. In the merest breeze the building shivers like a cat stalking a bird. In any sort of a wind the whole place hums like a glass harmonica. This has obviously influenced the results of the people counter: according to the results the library was at its busiest just after midnight last Friday when 64,000 visitors came in during the howling gail and hailstorm they had that night.

"We'll have to find some way of stopping the people counter from wobbling about," I'm told. Me, I can't see any problem: that's one public library standard sorted.

Any news of the iceberg?

It always amazes me what people will get away with in the name of charity. This story is wrong on so many levels it's delightful...

Frog Dropmore is chair of the local chapter of the RNLI. In the event of emergency it would have to be a damned powerful distress flare: we're forty miles from the sea.

The Dutch Bend Players are an amateur dramatic group that does a lot of charity matinees. This weekend they're doing "Titanic: The Musical." Frog's persuaded them to have a charity collection for the RNLI during the interval.

Déjà vu all over again

Human Resources ring me up again to ask why Jimmy Huddersfield hasn't sent in his sickness returns. I tell them again that Jimmy retired lo, these many moons ago.

The Wheel of Life sure turns quick around these parts!

Florence Nightingale should live this day

More PCs arrive. Seth and I feel duty bound to leave one toilet stall free so we commandeer the sick room and pile the boxes in there. Thus killing two birds with one stone. For some reason (i.e. Reggie Clockwatcher was the project manager when the library was built) the sick room had a sink unit fitted in where a camp bed or something should have gone. So for the last thirteen years, if you were taken ill you either lay down at your station or else went into the sick room and had a lie down in the sink. Relief at last: Seth has arranged the boxes such that the invalid just needs a leg up and they can have a nice lie down, the layers of cardboard boxes and styrofoam padding providing comfort scarcely exceeded by a goose feather bed.

Oh calamity

The only thing that's been keeping some staff going has been the thought that T.Aldous has been dropping hints for ages that he'll retire when he reaches 60 in May. (The older generation, they don't know they're born: free school milk; student grants; old age pensions...)

Their (probably entirely illusory) hopes have come crashing down. Lemuel the caretaker asked out right and was told that much though he'd love to, T.Aldous doesn't feel it's right to retire in May as "there's so much to do."

Block

One reason why staff in this library have so much leave to take before the end of the financial year is that the Group Librarian blocked all leave in October as her new granddaughter was due that month and she wasn't sure which days she'd be taking off for to join the happy family.

Frog suggests that this is not unrelated to the reason why the Saturday worked by the Group Librarian has 11 members of staff available and the Saturday worked by Frog and Lola has six.

Things to do when waking up screaming in the night is not enough

No matter where Hetty moves the PCs at Catty the leaks in the roof follow like ants at a picnic. One of the lads from PC Support went over and between them they've jerry-rigged a sort-of-working set up. An utter credit to their ingenuity and bloody-mindedness they've got the enquiry desk set up: a replacement PC on a sideboard under the staircase.

It's a brilliant set-up in the circumstances but I've still insisted that if anyone's standing in a puddle they're not using any electrical equipment.

This derelict shed is the one that the council's conservation officer insists can't have a wireless network connection.

The stuff that dreams are made on

Tench Road and Dutch Bend are closed for refurbishments and their staff are available to help provide cover at other libraries. Which is why we've got one member of staff on the counter in the main library at Helminthdale.

The reason? Staffing's been so tight over the past year that people haven't been able to take leave so they're trying to catch up with it. Sheesh.

Live from the bathysphere

Today's leak at Catty Library has taken out the entire enquiry desk including the PC and printer. Unfortunately, this PC is the one running the booking system for the People's Network. Hetty Bowling tried her damnedest but even she had to concede defeat when she realised that she was trying to reboot a PC whilst standing in three inches of water. Ctrl-Alt-Del caused a fine spray of water!

A northener surveys his roots

It's disheartening to find that toilets feature so heavily in my nice little blog on public library automation.

I begin to see where the Audit Commission inspectors' obsession with the subject arises.

Corks!

It wouldn't do to be caught short in Helminthdale Library. The PCs have arrived and I've run out of room in my office. We've had to commandeer one of the stalls in the lavatory and store them there.

All we need now is a dysentry outbreak.

Three thousand burning joss sticks sing "Happy Birthday" to Queen Juliana of the Netherlands

T. Aldous approaches Lola Ptitsa, our sole remaining librarian in half the Borough, doing two and a half librarians' work in half a week and fresh back from long-term sick due to stress.

"What are all these books on your desk?"

"I'm supposed to be checking them to see if they need replacing or transferring."

"Can you get them done today?"

"No. I'm on the enquiry desk all morning and then I've got next week's timetables to sort out and I'm supposed to be shortlisting for the Saturday cadets' posts."

"Well get them cleared quickly, they're in the way."

Says the man who commandeers the training room whenever he's got paperwork to do because his office is like Krakatoa.

All the little birds go whistle and tweet

No comment...

11.05am 21st Feb 06

Arthur,
Does today's conversation mean that the ten grand for reference subscriptions is now available to spend too?
Kevin


1312 21 February 2006

Kevin,
Is that the management system software?
Arthur


1:16pm 21 Feb 06

No. If you remember, it's the money for online subscriptions that I was begging for the other week when I was trying to take advantage of the MLA's negotitated price for Oxford Online.
Kevin


1003 22 February 2006

Oh yes. My apologies. I'd put that up as a budget saving. If you still want to use it you'll need to get the orders in today.
Arthur


10:21am 22 Feb 06

It's a tall order. I'll get the details of the stuff we need to you a.s.a.p.
Kevin


1137 22 February 2006

Cheers Kevin.
Does Warner Baxter know about all this from your point of view?
Arthur


11:37 22 Feb 06

Not yet but he will.


1145 22 February 2006

Thanks Kevin
Arthur

Twang

'Phone call from Arthur Sixpence, of blessed memory:

"Do you still want that software you asked for the money for last year?"

YES!!!!!!!! Dammit.

"Can you get me the details. I need to order it this week."

I obtain the fifth quote and sixth order form for him and hope for the best.

Every day's a re-run and the laughter's always canned

Like the turds returning on the tide at Brighton the paperwork for those damned PCs comes back to haunt me. I can't blame T.Aldous (except perhaps for his lousy timing in deciding to try and order any computer kit this time of the financial year). The poor sod spent two working days getting the run around from assorted bods last week. The upshot is that we (I) have to fill in a new form and -- get this! -- supply layout plans for the PCs on order.

I can just about understand the need for plans for installing PCs onto the network; at the project phase not the ordering phase. Why the hell we have to supply plans for stand alone PCs I do not know. By this stage I'd filled in eighteen three-page forms and was mightily hacked off with the whole gig. I drew detailed floor plans of the libraries involved and added the label: "this Pc to go wherever we feel like in this library."

The idyll passes

Have crept in early in the hopes of getting my head around the "to-do" list before it all starts going ape. To let myself in lightly I treated myself to a quick browse of the incoming non-fiction waiting to be catalogued by my non-existant deputy. I pick up a copy of "Sexual Signs," which turns out to be a British Sign Language manual. No imagination necessary: the sign for "penis" appears to be vaguely boastful; that for "vagina" quite disconcerting (perhaps that's the romantic in me).

And to think there were comments when I bought that book of football jokes for some of our branch libraries!

Doomed

Happy holiday...

Just had a 'phone call from T.Aldous. The call was to find out what type of PC we should be buying. On the requisition form I'd specified a desktop. T.Aldous had checked with Pookie Schnakenberger in IT to get the price and he was told:

It's the wrong form, we don't use this one any more.

You have to supply plans showing the precise positions of the PCs in the libraries.

You can't have desktops, only towers.

My response was:

I spent half an hour searching the intranet for a more up-to-date form without success. That's primarily because since 1999 the search facility has been "coming soon." That's the work of the guys who reckon that we should let them create the web interface to the library catalogue and not buy something in that's working in over a hundred libraries across the world.

To be fair to T.Aldous, he doesn't give a monkey's what form we use. Such is the animosity between him and Pookie that he'd be happy for the requisition to be written on bog paper, wrapped around a brick and lobbed through her window.

Conkers. T.Aldous agreed.

The desktops have a smaller footprint: the screens can sit on the processor, they can't on a tower. T.Aldous seized upon this with some glee and rang off.

I've managed to keep my telephone number a secret from him for seven years; he's somehow managed to wheedle it from somebody. Sigh...

When Alexander the Great was my age he'd been dead twelve years

Escape at last. The last lot of ersatz alarums and excursions involved performance indicators. Earlier this week I'd made the mistake of noticing that we'd actually achieved a public library standard. This set T.Aldous and Mary to the task of debunking the figures so as to prove that the services we provide aren't any good. For the fourth time in two days I find myself explaining: "those figures are the number of items added to stock this financial year and these figures are the number paid for out of this year's funds. Bear in mind that we spent two weeks in April desperately trying to spend up last year's book fund because you put the blocks on any spending the previous summer because you wanted 'to review the way we're targetting our stock buying.'"

Key to this is a fundamental gulf in the mindsets of myself and my managers. I will quite cheerfully tell any man and his dog just how bad we are organisationally while marvelling at the daily miracle of our not just getting the doors open but also providing a wide range of surprisingly well-delivered services to an unsuspecting public. My managers will tell anybody who'll listen — and many who won't — how bad our services are whilst claiming it's all somebody else's fault and nothing to do with the fact that they won't spend the money we're given and won't fill vacancies.

In the dark hours of the night I'm haunted by the thought that perhaps there is a management strategy in play in the library service after all. And its keystone is a scorched earth policy.

Eeek!

Utter shock!

For the first time in I don't know how long the telephone rings. It's an old dear wanting the housing office at Bencup.

I should have thrown the bloody thing at T.Aldous after all.

A mayfly dreams of eternity

It's my turn now. I'm having the next few days off so I'm desperately trying to get the urgents tied up before I go home. So at three o'clock T.Aldous trolls up and demands that I put together the requisitions for the fifteen extra PCs we need to meet the public library standard as a matter of urgency. This has been too-ing and fro-ing for about eight weeks now; I've provided the same list of suggestions three times; and I'm fed up of listening to the same old waffle over and over again. Now it's a matter of urgency.

To compound the felony, he spends the next hour popping his head round the door with sundry inanities just to make sure I can't concentrate on the job to hand. Three times he comes in to tell me exactly the same story, word for word, demonstrating the stupidity of the person he spoke to in the IT section about these PCs. When it isn't that one it's the story about the central heating at Dutch Bend and the architect's concerns that rodents may make nests in the pipework. At the best of times I wouldn't be best interested in potential vermin in the imaginations of the Borough's architects department. At present, it's all I can do not to throw the damned 'phone at him.

As much fun as you can have without actually being sick

Enter Lemuel the caretaker in high dudgeon. He's spent all morning dismantling and packing up trestle tables upstair in the community room. Then T.Aldous comes along and tells him that half of them are needed for some event this afternoon at 2pm. T.Aldous comes along and tells him at half-past one, while Lemuel's having his lunch.

My, how he laughed.

The bag meows

I get a 'phone call from a colleague in IT. "I've got a councillor on the 'phone trying to ring Warner Baxter." ...the telephone system's no better... "He wants to get more details on the closure of Raccoonville Library. Who should he be speaking to?"

I take the call and drag T.Aldous away from his latest inability to cope with his email to talk to the councillor. Judiciously, I claim that I don't know what he wants to talk to T.Aldous about.

Raccoonville! I must dig out my tin hat.

Logic

Lola Ptitsa, our sole remaining librarian in half the Borough is back from long-term sick. At half nine, Human Resources rang up to ask why she hadn't submitted her staff's sickness monitoring forms for the past nine weeks. "I've been off sick," she sighed. "You might have noticed my name on Julia's sickness monitoring forms."

Going nowhere real slow

Still internal-only calls on the telephones, which is a major pain in the arse when your working day is dominated by trying to sort out problems in twenty libraries without the permissions to proxy into their PCs and do it myself.

The utter awfulness of the situation is only compounded by the arrival of the new telephones. "We had a problem with the telephones that were first supplied so we have been provided with these higher specification models at no extra cost," says the Chief Executive's global email. First order of the day is how to turn off the sodding loudspeaker so that the whole library doesn't hear every conversation in glorious megaphone. ("Hello Mr. Smedley, this is the clap clinic about your appointment.")

Being technically-minded (i.e. by pure dumb luck) I work out how to do it at the fifth attempt. We then spend half an hour trying to repeat the success on the Acquisitions Team's 'phone. Only to find out that my particular solution doesn't work because they found out how to stop their 'phone ringing any time any other 'phone on the floor rang. A solution was found. We're now wondering how to stop it picking up T.Aldous' 'phone if he doesn't answer on the third ring.

Detail of Painting by An Unknown Artist Depicting Unconditional Surrender at the Battle of Helminthdale

Well, good on T.Aldous! We're no nearer getting Arthur Sixpence to let us near the money we've been allocated for buying online resources and the deadline for the MLA's first national offer is breathing down our necks. Faced with missing out yet again and having to put up with more snide comments from the Audit Commission, not to mention staff and customers, T. Aldous has played a blinder and has managed to persuade the accountants to let us use some of another capital budget for this purpose.

The trick now is to take advantage of this offer without letting Arthur off the hook (I'm damned if he's getting away with hanging onto that money without a fight).

The Order of the Lack of Vivid Imagination

For some reason, Human Resources take it on themselves to ring me up to find out why Jimmy Huddersfield hasn't sent in his staff sickness returns. I tell them that I've lost track how long Jimmy's been retired and ask why nobody had run up to ask why Mary had been including his staff in her monitoring returns lo these many months. Helminthdale Council's got one of the worst staff sickness records in the country. If Human Resources are always as on the ball as this I'm not bloody surprised.

Incommunicado

Helminthdale's now got a new telephone system and as bad luck would have it Helminthdale Library's included in the system. The immediate consequence is that no external callers can get through to the council. The public ring us up, the 'phone apparently rings, and rings... and rings... but the person on the receiving end hears nothing. Brilliant.

Thud

There are times when I'm really sorry for T.Aldous. He's just had a 'phone call from Land & Properties to tell him that they've decided to replace the heating system in Catty Library at the beginning of March so he'll need to close the library for a few weeks.

How the hell can you run a service like this? Dutch Bend was scheduled to be closed for a new roof at the turn of the year and it hasn't happened. We got three week's notice to close Tench Lane and now barely a month's notice of this one. We never know how many of our libraries are going to be open next month, let alone next year. Plays hob with service planning.

Still, it's good for the cardboard box and packing tape industries.

Nod

Not just me: just had lunch with a friend who tells me another story about Arthur Sixpence...

He's involved in a big project my friend's responsible for. Things were getting sticky and unpleasant so my friend needed to talk to Arthur in the hopes that he might actually do something he'd been assigned to do about nine months previously. Eventually the shit hit the fan and Arthur rang my friend:

"We need to have a meeting."

My friend dutifully toddles along, thinking dark thoughts along the lines of "about bloody time, too." He sits down.

"What's the problem?"

asks Arthur. My friend starts explaining the general situation, working from notes to make sure he's not forgotten anything. Two minutes into this he turns to Arthur and asks a question. No answer.

Arthur was fast asleep.

Any colour so long as it's green

I've been trying to avoid getting involved in the decor for the new library at Noddy and the children's library in Milkbeck. I'm cornered by T.Aldous as I sneak past the photocopier. Carpets. He wants me to disagree with the choice of the staff at Noddy (which is easy: browny-puce. Blech!) I refuse to volunteer an alternative because

1. The staff at Noddy are going to be the ones working in there.


2. They'd crucify me.

I wriggle like a worm on a hook but I will not suggest sea green. Just at the point where I am weakening I've saved by a telephone call. I've no idea why I'm inflicted with this particular problem but this time I'm grateful:

"Can you come up and bring the caretaker with you?"

"Why? What's happening?"

"A lad's been sick in the reference library again."

"Again? What's going on up there? This is the second lad who's been sick this lunchtime."

"Oh no, it's the same lad. He enjoyed the experience so much the first time that he came back to do it again."

It was hell in the jungle. Couldn't get the custard.

It's been a brave cultural experiment, but I think Helminthdale's demonstrated that you can't run a local authority along the lines of the Dada Manifesto.

The first cuckoo of spring

A bloke from the Residents' Association popped into Panama Street Library this morning and told them that they're going to be closed. This is an annual event: every year the council decides it's going to close a few libraries. Every year Panama Street is in the frame. This guy's popping in to tell them is one of the signs and portents of spring, like snowdrops and singing wood pigeons.

Every year the black spot is flaunted. Every year everyone gets up in arms. The service is put into stasis — no development is allowed "because it might close this year." Senior management gets tied up in meetings with community groups, councillors, Uncle Tom Cobley and all to justify a decision that's been made on the back of an envelope by a director or a cabinet member. There'll be the usual press campaigns. Staff will be disrupted. Customers will be disrupted. Trade will be disrupted.

Then, four months later, nothing will happen.

Why put off today something that you can put off again tomorrow?

The MLA has negotiated a national offer for some key online resources, making them as affordable to us as they are desirable. We have the money. We want to buy them. Unfortunately, that particular budget, too, is controlled by Arthur Sixpence. A week to the deadline and I'm being stonewalled on this one as well:

"Kevin,
This will be coming up in discussion next week. I'll get back to you.
Arthur."

At least the bugger's consistent.

Patience

Just spent half an hour dealing with a customer (it turned out I was the senior member of staff at the time). "I've told him and told him, but he won't take no for an answer," explains Vera, sotto voce. This guy lost his mobile 'phone some time last week and wanted to go through the security camera tapes to see if he dropped it in the library either on Monday when he was in for a couple of hours or else Wednesday when he was in all morning. I explain at length that he's not seeing the tape, adding that under Data Protection regulations we would be criminally liable if we were to let him see the tapes as that would be infringing the statutory rights of the other people in the library. And besides which, as a matter of principle he's not. Seth the caretaker joins me and eventually we get him to agree that Seth will check the tapes and let him know if he spots anything.

"Well, I suppose. But I don't know why you won't let me look at the tapes."

I don't tell him it's because it's a dummy camera put there by Reggie Clockwatcher.

Keep on washing those hands, folks!

Helminthdale Children's Library sends a book back to Frog because "it's faulty and needs replacing." Apparently, a customer complained because an illiterate troll who makes an appearance in the story says: "Dis am a really nice cave!" Which is not proper English so the book needs replacing...

Gallows humour

For some reason a couple of people were doing impersonations of Hutch in the staff room this lunchtime. It occurs to me that this might be a reason why our categories for pop & rock CDs are:

• Pop Group
• Pop Instrumental
• Pop Singer

(If you insist on pretending you're too young to remember him, have a look at http://www.tales.ndirect.co.uk/HUTCH2.HTML but do remember to come back.)

Somebody tells me a story: T. Aldous is packing his car in Tesco's car park when he spots an old lady struggling with a pile of carrier bags.

"Can you manage?"

He shouts. She turns to him in scorn and replies:

"Sod off. You made the mess you can sort it out."

Pedestrian cross

The gas board is digging up Milkbeck Road so it's closed for the next six months. I don't know why they don't just pedestrianise it: it's been closed for six months while utilities dig holes three times in the past two years. Bit of a nuisance as this is the main road into Helminthdale. Traffic gets twenty yards away from High Street — which has the Town Hall, the bus station and the car park for the shops — and then gets funnelled down Maisie Avenue, round the back of Dishevelled Lane and thence onto the bottom of Catty Road. In order to reinforce the council's commitment to healthy living and meeting carbon targets, the council has switched off all the pedestrian crossings on Maisie Avenue so as make the traffic flow the easier.

Holy socks Batman!

There's always someone worse off than yourself. The Leisure Trust has just been renamed Sports, Parks & Leisure Action Trust. I've no evidence for this but I suspect the same fertile mind was behind the Community Unity Neighbourhood Team at Dutch Bend.

Poking a stick into the pick & mix

Jim Lettuce pops round to check some numbers with me. He's doing an exercise to see what happens to key performance indicators if libraries are closed.

"Which libraries are we going to be looking at?" I ask.

"Probably be best if we have a look at all of them, to be on the safe side."

"So we're not building a business case for closing five particular libraries?"

No, we're not. Shall we look at Pottersbury Road first and get it over and done with? No, let's not, there's no point. Everything in Jim's manner points to one conclusion: somebody's already decided which five and Jim's been given the job of making the evidence fit the conclusion. "Which five, Jim?"

"If I tell you I'll have to kill you."

Whichever libraries are on the hit list, three eternal verities will apply:

1. The choice will be irrational: there will be no service-based business case for the chosen;


2. The process will drag on for months, raising the utmost disruption and upset; and


3. Five libraries won't close.

Water torture

"The waste disposal van will be calling for all the discarded equipment today," T.Aldous tells me. "Are you sure we should be throwing away that screen?"

Moving around the deckchairs on the Titanic

Jim Lettuce rings: "Can I come round a check some figures with you? Corporate Directorate have decided that we need to close five libraries and I've got to do the workings-out to show what happens to the public library standards if we take particular libraries out of commission. I asked T.Aldous what the effect would be if we closed five libraries and he said: 'We'd have to have a book sale.'"

So we're having a one-to-one meeting tomorrow. In some respects it's a shame to think of closing libraries, although most of the sound and fury you hear on the subject is focussed on the buildings, not the services. For the past twenty-five years Helminthdale has been running twenty libraries on the resources fit for twelve and it shows badly. It wouldn't be difficult to make a business case for closing five libraries: four virtually choose themselves (Pottersbury Road, for instance, wouldn't cause any ripples in issue or visitor figures and would be a huge saving on building costs, especially after the school recently raised the rent by five grand). The fifth would be any one of about five libraries. It'll be interesting to find out more.

An information professional at work

"I can't make head nor tail of this," T.Aldous tells Seth. Seth has made the mistake of giving him the lists of equipment in the throwing-out pile and in the computer room towards the end of an extremely trying day.

"That's the equipment that's being thrown out. And that's the equipment that was in the computer room that's being kept."

"But what about all these?" asks T.Aldous, referring to what appears to be the fifth or sixth generation two or three times removed arising from his orginal asset list.

"That's stuff that wasn't in the computer room."

"Well, where is it?"

"I don't know."

Seth recounts this to me and I weaken and have a look at T.Aldous' list. The original was obviously a corporate asset list not just confined to the library service. The PCs in question belong to the Environmental Health department.

The wheels fall off the cycle of life

In my lunch break (what T.Aldous calls my lunch hour and my clock card calls twenty one minutes) I nip out and buy a couple of bottles for Seth in appreciation of the work he's done on the computer room and the prolonged aggrivation he's had from T.Aldous today. I'd have killed the man, and may well yet do so.

"He's asked me about that bloody screen again," says Seth.

"Courage, mon brave," I say as I clasp his shoulder. "This cannot be forever."

We both know better. This is one of Hell's waiting rooms.

How come there's never a whacking big stick with a nail stuck in it when you really need one?

Seth is knee-deep in electronic archaeology when T.Aldous butts in.

"What's that screen?"

"I don't know."

"Why aren't we keeping that?"

"Because Kevin says it's broken and should be chucked out."

"Put it to one side, I'll check with him."

And so he toddles into my office. I'm knee-deep in the Library Service's contribution to the corporate specification for an online bookings system, in which Library Management Group is actively involved in pretty much the same way as the dead tree at the bottom of my garden is contributing to the London Olympics.

"What's that screen in the pile over there?"

"Which one? There are four."

"The black one."

"It's a black broken screen."

"If it's broken why is it here?"

"Because it's broken, I replaced it with a spare and I didn't know I was allowed to dispose of broken equipment."

"Why are we throwing it away?"

"Because it's broken."

"I think we should keep it, just in case we need to account for it."

"Isn't that why you've got Seth making a list of equipment that's being disposed of?"

"Are you sure it's broken?"

"Quite sure. If you shake it about it makes an interesting rattling noise and when you plug it into the mains it fizzes."

"So it needs to be thrown away then?"

"Yes, honestly."

Chasing rainbows

"Good news," emails Arthur Sixpence.

"We've been a bit busy lately but we're now able to do something about the software you wanted ordering. We'll be discussing it next week."

We've been "doing something about it next week" since November. It's good to see that in these turbulent times there are still some things that never change.

Rubbing salt in it

I've rescued what equipment I can from the chucking-out pile. A dozen items in all: a PC screen; an inkjet printer; a Braille embosser and some barcode scanners. Only the screen and printer are on the asset register: barcode scanners are treated as consumables by our IT section and they wouldn't know a Braille embosser from a badger's arse (I'm the local expert on them, which shows how bad things are). There might be some more "spares" that I could rescue but I can't be bothered. What's the point?

In flounces T.Aldous to ask whether I've taken the details of all the equipment in the chucking-out pile.

"No. You had Seth do that when he was clearing the place out on Saturday."

"But that was before you took some of the equipment out and put it back in the computer room."

"The stuff I'm keeping's in the computer room. There's only a screen and a printer that you need to keep on the asset register."

"So you've not made a list of all the serial numbers of the equipment that's to be thrown out?"

"No. You've already got that. You just need to cross out the screen and the printer from that list."

"So I can leave you to go through that equipment then? I'll leave the list with you."

"You can take the list away with you. I'm not going to do anything with it."

Half an hour later, Seth tells me that he's been instructed to go through the equipment in the chucking-out pile, taking the serial numbers. He suggested that he could just take a note of the kit that was being kept and cross it off Saturday's list. Not good enough. T.Aldous wants to see him checking all the numbers.

Emptying the rummage cupboard

On Friday afternoon, T.Aldous told me that he wanted the equipment in the computer room checking against the inventory. This consists of a few bits in the network cabinet; a few working spares and a load of kit that's broken but which I've not been allowed to throw away because "we may need to account for it."

"I don't know why you're holding onto equipment that's broken, what's the point?"

Says the man who I asked precisely the same question six years ago when he insisted that I find room in the computer room for twenty-seven defunct dumb terminals and three bookcases full of old Latin dictionaries.

I arranged with Seth the caretaker that we'd spend this morning clearing the room out, making a pile of the stuff that's being chucked out (having taken the details of those bits of equipment that should/would have been on the asset register at some time or another) and taking the asset details of the kit I'd be keeping.

Alas! T.Aldous was in on Saturday and decided that this wasn't good enough, insisting that Seth clear out the computer room that afternoon. So, this morning I'm rummaging through the pile trying to rescue the kit that I want to keep.

Seth's quite embarassed and upset by it. I don't know why, he's not to blame and he's made a splendid job of tidying up the computer room. T.Aldous, on the other hand, is a time-wasting prat.

Statesmanlike

Having a drink in "The Monkey's" with a council colleague to celebrate his retirement. The Leader of the Council, Councillor Oblong, enters the pub, sees Warner Baxter standing at the bar and shouts across:

"Oi you! Have you closed that fucking library yet?"

"What's that about?" I ask my friend later.

"Didn't you know?" he replied. "He's got a down on one of your libraries because the librarian there sent their kid to private school."

Rattle of pebbles in a potted meat tin

3.15pm: after eight months' of trying, the network team get the OK from the planners to put a wireless link on the back end of Grimly Library between the burglar alarm and the anti-vandal fencing

3.40pm: the planners change their mind and decide that they need planning permission and the equipment needs to be painted brick red

A sailor's farewell to his horse

Someone here has realised we are not going to hit our targets for stock replenishment. Oh dear that bad. The action plan which was floating around last week, which I haven't seen, suggests I will confirm by last Friday the number of withdrawals from stock we have made this financial year. As I don't know I am supposed to be doing this I haven't done it.

Somehow the solution to the problem is to withdraw material like it is going out of fashion. Someone has come up with the glorious solution that if we get rid of 20,000 items before March 31st we might have a chance. Where the 20,000 has come from I don't know, as if you don't know how many you have got rid of up to now — and I know they don't as no one has asked for the figure — how do you know this action will get you where you think you ought to be?

Being the helpful sort I am I have offered alternative solution. I will buy, for the princely sum of one new penny, the entire stock of Pottersbury Road Library, total 11,510. (This figure has to be treated with a little caution as some of it was counted by the Pottersbury Road Library staff.) I will then sell my entire purchase back to the library service for 1p, thus creating a turnover of 2 x 11,510. (At this stage I am still working on the small print of purchase/sales contract, though writing into the terms and conditions a line that none of the stuff can be used for Pottersbury Road branch library seems like a very good idea to me.)

Oddly, and I don't know why as I can't see a hole in my logic, initial reaction to my proposal hasn't been well received.

Geography for the damned

email exchange between Frog and t. Aldous:

"The storysacks and the storysack racks have arrived. The latest are for Catty and Dutch Bend libraries (bought from Surestart money - so have to be housed in Surestart areas) The racks have been assembled and will be delivered shortly. "

"Where is the SureStart area in Catty Library ? "

"There isn't. I was meaning Surestart areas in the geographical sense as in Catty, Dutch Bend, Sorry & Oblivion, etc. "

Ain't it grand to be bloomin' well dead?

People's Network. This time it's the Reference Library. They wanted a scanner, so I arranged for someone to put in all the electrics, I ordered scanner, took it and box up to the Reference Library, unpacked it, installed it, went away.

"We can't have that," they screamed, "someone might pinch it."

Put scanner back in box, went away.

Customer complained about lack of scanner. I quote Reference Librarian via reliable witness: "We did have one, but the IT guy took it away".

Now it seems I have to reply to official complaint. Bless.

Life can be a dream

A couple of months ago one of the library assistants successfully applied for the job running the branch library at Oblivion. I asked her if she's got a start date yet.

"God no. I'm beginning to think it was all just a strange, exotic dream."

Pathetic point scoring

Up in the reference library to sort a problem created by Reggie Clockwatcher. He tells his customers: "I've asked the technician to have a look at the problem. Here he is now."

A few minutes later a customer asks me where to find one of the directories. I point to Reggie:

"Ask the receptionist over there. I'm sure he'll be able to help."

And now a day in the farmyard...

Global corporate email:

Please be aware that some people are receiving emails that include a potential virus threat. These emails have the subject "Re:[]"

Do not open the attachment in these emails. The anti-virus software on the network should block any problems but it is sensible not to take any risks. It is best all round if you just delete emails with this subject heading without reading them.

Please make sure that colleagues without access to email see this message.

Why?

Post haste

There goes T. Aldous, running up the hill to the post office to get a statutory submission in the mail by the alloted deadline. If a thing's worth doing it's worth doing on the back of an envelope at the very last minute.

Sitting on us assets

T. Aldous is still tinkering with the asset registry entry for the libraries. Had he left it for me to do once I was back from Xmas leave on the 3rd I'd have had it done and dusted in a week (albeit with a lot of bitching and bad language). He's got three different versions on the go and, as he doesn't understand the concept of version control, he's made different notes and alterations on each in turn and made different generations of corrections on different sheets such that it is impossible to correlate the data. He then compounds it by hovering over the shoulder of Nettie the secretary as she amends the spreadsheet, gets her to print out the results and then that becomes version four to be scribbled on. Except he loses that and reverts to making corrections on version two. He's confused the hell out of every library in town and I can't find any of the "grubby spares" equipment that I keep hold of for emergency.

Keeps him out of mischief I guess.

Dressing up

For reasons we won't go into here, we've been given a couple of tiny teddy bears to help promote romantic fiction. Having a bit of time on our hands while the world goes to hell in a handcart, Frog and I set to dressing them up suitably. Mills and Boon, the Bondage Bears, have black leatherette jackets and thighboots (we cut up a bin bag), string vests (I'd just bought some satsumas) and spiked dog collars (black masking tape and drawing pins). They look very fetching, though their initial appearance on the children's librarians' bookshelf was controversial and had to be toned down for the audience.

I'm really worried that

1. We found the time to do this; and


2. We both turn out to be so knowledgeable about bondage gear.

Frog's now making a cat o'nine tails out of an old drinking straw. I think I should leave him to it.

The equipment has the best tunes

The lift is broken (again!) Some wag sticks a note on the door:

This Otis regrets it cannot come down today

Oh yes it can!

"Ah well, at least it can't get any worse," they say. And then it bloody well does. In a bid to kill the jinx I've instituted a rule in my office that anyone saying "It can't get any worse" has to put 10p in the cocoa tin by the door. I've just checked the current state of play: since the beginning of December we've collected £3.40 for charity.

Puzzle

"What do you do for a living?" asks Warner Baxter.

Do you know, I had no idea either.

Life imitates art II

My colleague has given me the OK so here's the picture I referred to a while back.

Now will you stop nagging?

(The note was thrown away, but not the flipchart despite it being a risk to life and limb. I'm not aware that the note itself was broken. Probably a misunderstanding.)

Terror

Oh hell. This is enough to freeze your waters... T. Aldous has just popped his head through the doorway and said:

I think we need to prioritise your workload.

This means that any attempt on my part to do absolutely anything except, perhaps, go to the lavatory will be stymied for the forseeable. "Don't do that just yet, we need to review whether or not it's a high priority," they'll say. But you can bet your bippy that I'll be held personally accountable for anything that's not done.

Boxing clever

Last Thursday, Seth the caretaker approached T. Aldous:

"I've got a pile of flattened cardboard boxes in the back there. Are you going to be needing them for Tench Lane?"

"No, I've sorted out what we're doing about moving the books away from the building work."

"So is it OK for me to chuck them then?"

"Oh yes, we need the space."

Today T. Aldous approaches Seth:

"Do we have any cardboard boxes? We need about thirty or forty of them for moving the stock at Tench Lane."

He then scoured the building looking for likely boxes. He spotted a pile in the acquisitions team's corner.

"What are these boxes?"

"They're new books that have arrived from the suppliers this morning."

"Can you unpack them now? I need the boxes."

"No. Each box includes the invoice and delivery note and we need to be able the check the boxes' contents against the paperwork."

"Can't you pile the books in the corner over there, using the invoices to separate each box?"

"Is that your 'phone ringing?"

A mismatch of realities

T.Aldous, having been frightened by news about the council's strategy for transforming e-government, comes in for a chat.

"It's a pity that you told us to kill that project last month. That would have been our contribution to the strategy and we'd be sweet with Warner Baxter."

Me kill that project?!? http://helminthdale.blogspot.com/2005/12/sprint-finish.html

Nobody would convict me.

Mañana is a bit frenetic for some people

Time's a-wasting, we have some outstanding projects that have to be completed by the end of March and the hand at the tiller is Arthur Sixpence's. God help us. I chase him up again...

Hi Arthur,
For a couple of months I've been asking how we get to spend the money on the online services agreed in March. As you know, this project's a bit urgent now, especially after the comments by the inspection team and the Chief Exec's response to them. We need to get this moving a.s.a.p. Can we make a start soon?

Response:

Kevin,
I'll check what we're doing about this and I'll get back to you next week.

An utter waste of time and effort

Email exchange...

From T. Aldous:

Is it possible to have the statistics for new borrowers collected and reported on a monthly basis?

My reply:

Yes it is possible and I've been emailing the figures to you at the beginning of each month for the past three years.

Reverb

Public spat:

"Who told you to send those boxes out to Catty?" demands T. Aldous.

"You did," chorus Seth and Lemuel the caretakers.

"I did no such thing. Mary and Reginald have no right telling you to send boxes all over town. Where will it end? We won't know where anything is."

"We don't know where anything is anyway," retorts Seth, stopping short of saying the L word.

"Those boxes need to be over here so that we know where they are. I'll leave you to make the arrangements."

One day someone will open one of these boxes and find out that something important's inside. Frog's running a book on the contents. I'm a bit put off that the five favourites are all body parts.

Oopsie daisie!

Another year another directorate. Warner Baxter, our new director, comes along for a hastily-convened Management Group meeting.

Apparently, at the end he said: "that was a useful introduction, thank you. I'll come along to the next meeting so that I can get a feel as to how things are progressing. When's your next meeting? How often do you meet?"

Nobody could tell him.