Have I mentioned the business involving me and libraries before? There are several oddities that take place when I go into libraries.
You see, I love libraries and I love getting books but somehow I can’t seem to bring myself to get said books back to the library. It’s not because I want to hang on to them; rather it’s a combination of not having the time when I have the inclination and not having the inclination when I have got the time.
This leads to a kind of impasse that can only result in one thing: the books becoming overdue, and then more and more overdue. Then I wait around and scrutinise the local papers to see when the next Amnesty is, but I always miss it, so the books fall into what an accounts clerk would call ‘past due’; not to say ‘urgently overdue, please pay now’. Then there’ll be the problem of me not having the funds to pay the fine. Then I’ll inspect the papers again looking for an Amnesty (by this time six months can have passed).
Once Mike and his pals were all sitting around in our flat, drinking, playing rock music loudly and … errr….chewing the fat when there came a knock at the door that can only emanate from one source: The Law. They gave a universally guilty start – all those men in the flat – opened windows and cleared bottles away while Mike nervously made for the door (some people are pre-disposed to run-ins [should that be runs-in?] with The Law and he, having been one of these people, knew the milk of human kindness did not spring from the breasts of said representatives of The Law).
Peering around the partly opened door which now contained a Foot Belonging to The Law, Mike apprehensively asked whether he could be of any service. He asked for me, The Law did. He wanted me for … you guessed it…. not returning my library books. I think Mike and the guys in the flat were so relieved they all became excessively jolly, they may even have dragged The Law into the flat and offered him a sherry and thumped him on the back once they realised I was the Fugitive From Justice and not them.
I never hear the end of this story at home. It gets hauled out of the cupboard and dusted off for every visitor, too, so it does. And it was YEARS ago. After that all my library cards were cut up and I was made to burn them (oh the shame) and I’ve never been allowed another one. LOL!