Ex Libris

I've emerged from the pea-souper of term into the squinty sunshine of holidays and am starting to get back around to all the things I've been meaning to do for the last 10 weeks. I had my poor car serviced. I ran the washing machine nonstop for an entire weekend. I rang my Gran. I made an appointment to get my tax return done. I took a deep breath and cleaned my room...and, oh, woe, unearthed the pile of university library books I swore blind to the nice lady on the phone I'd taken back in August.

Not that the uni appeared to still be fretting over their return. Having bought the company of the long-suffering and delightful J for a trip through the Maccas drive-through (THRU be damned) I tootled out to the campus and carried my burden up the three flights of stairs to the library.

The return chute was locked. By pressing both feet to the wall and pulling with both hands I could get it open about a centimetre and a half, but the VHS I was trying to return stubbornly refused to rearrange itself and be swallowed. Pardon my naivete, but isn't the point of the return chute...
Never mind. It was a Saturday, so the library itself would be open and I could just hand the stuff over the counter.

To be admitted to the library you need to employ the same strategy you do to cross the road in Rome - just start walking. The drivers will stop only when they find you about to bounce over the bonnet of their shiny Fiat. Standing on the mat and waving sheepishly at the sensor will get you nowhere. It takes confidence, but if you plough straight towards the doors with determined stride I assure you they will fling themselves apart at the last instant. Fortunately for my nose, however, this time I noticed the sign blu-tacked to the glass before I got much of a run-up.

It read:

SPECIAL LIBRARY CLOSING HOURS:

TODAY: Closed
TOMORROW: Open 10 - 2
NEXT DAY: Closed

No dates, you see. And today the sods sent me another overdue notice.

Well, colour me navy...

..and throw me to the corporation.

On top of the usual wobbly fluorescent horror of the changing room, now I look ill as well. My decolletage has developed a canal network and you could sink billiard balls in the pits under my eyes. I want to be orange and red and brown and fabulous. Can I bear to be navy and black and white and employed? Who will they call Ms Kiwifruit now?

I Heart Marking

Presenting some of the gems from this batch of Year 8 assessment:

In Venice I will rent a scooter.
(And ride it where, dear heart?)

This morning I will visit the Colosseum.
This afternoon I will visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
This evening I will see the ruins of Pompeii.
And tomorrow I will take the matter transporter back to the laboratory.

Il pomeriggio mangio le cartoline.
Unfortunately for Aaron, this translates as
'this afternoon I will eat postcards'.

Oh, I Wish I Were a Year 6 Teacher (With Flowers in My Hair)

It's Book Week this week. Sitting around the staff lunch table with the usual collection of suspects yesterday were Long John Silver, (Where's) Wally and Dorothy from the 'Wizard of Oz'.