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Jul 6

In which I ramble on about stuff because I feel like it.

Posted on Friday, July 6, 2012 in Rantings, Strange and Unusual

It’s been a long day. It’s bucketing rain outside, I know, because I battled M50 drivers today for the privilege of being the fastest driver out there with the quickest reaction times. Drum and Bass music tends to do that to a lady. The amount of fender-benders I saw! I pointed and laughed and zoomed away with my ABS brakes and threw caution to the wind because I was in that sort of mood.

The power keeps flickering.

Three weeks of rain in two days, they say.

It’s sodding July!

It’s been a long day. Laughingboy is in hospital with a zombie virus. I know it’s a zombie virus because my husband caught it off him and the symptoms are… deathly pallour, creepy moaning, resistance to sunlight and the overall telltale sign… arms outstretched searching for my blood. Or my attention. Whatever. It could be man-flu though, the symptoms are very similar.

I’ve hidden the other children somewhere safe. But now I can’t remember where that is. Oh well.

So anyway, now I’m going to tell you about the last day of library duty.

As soon as you read the words ‘library duty’, I’m sure you switched off to a certain extent, but I can assure you that this library is like no other library because first of all, it’s a haunted library (and I have this theory backed up by a very up-standing member of the faculty staff so I know my suspicions are true) and second of all, the frequenters of this library are very, very small.

I’ve been volunteering at the school library for three years now, and it’s strange… although the night before I’m bricking it, the experience itself is actually kinda nice. The enthusiasm that some five-year-olds have for books is pretty inspiring sometimes. And also it gives me the excuse to say that I DESERVE that quart of scotch afterwards.

On the last day of term, however, it’s different.

It happened two weeks ago.

The last day of term, that is.

Forty five children. Junior infants, Senior Infants, and first class children. All packed into this tiny room full of precious books and maps and posters about chickens and Lord of the Rings.  Normally they have this kind of bored and frustrated sort of air to them, which is when I like to drum the enthusiasm of the written word into them.

But this day was different.

It was like their parents had fed them with Nitro-Glycerine for breakfast.


I had a heavy-duty encyclopaedia on-hand, just in case I needed to clobber the overly enthusiastic ones… I swear the teacher wouldn’t have noticed, she was dealing with a dislocated shoulder at the time. In fairness though, some of those shelves take a lot of climbing so injury is to be expected!

Fiachra approached me with a book on trains. He is all of four years old.

“You already have eleven books out, kiddo! This is the summer holidays, you can’t be taking books out, you should be returning the ones you’ve already kept for so long!”

This statement went over his head like a giraffe’s fart.

“I want de trains.” he replied.

“No!” I says, “this library day is different, I’m not giving books out… sure the whole library will end up in your house and your mammy will give out to me!”

The lower lip started to quiver.

I readied my encyclopaedia.

It was when the principal of the school herself appeared to quash the confrontation that I backed down. I did admit that the aforementioned library ghost liked to screw with library tickets to make librarians such as myself to THINK that such kids had oodles of books out when they did indeed have not, so I caved, and gave the kid his train book. As the last of the ankle biters left the room, said library ghost sent the entire shelf of ‘read it yourself’ books tumbling to the floor.

Or that could have been me.

I’m not sure.

Either way, the bottle of Jack Daniels that day was totally deserved.

Bring on the comments

  1. Brianf says:

    I’ve hidden the other children somewhere safe. But now I can’t remember where that is. Oh well.
    Ha! My favorite line!
    Also Jack Daniels is not Scotch nor is it Bourbon. It’s some weird sour mash crap made in Tennessee. I’m half tempted to send you a bottle of good Bourbon. Woodford Reserve or Knob Creek so you’ll know what good American whiskey is.

  2. Kudos to you, Kate, for volunteering. I’m sure it’s a fullfilling job.

    @Brian Jim Beam – Kentucky Bourbon!
    The Jack Daniels Distillery is a little over 5 hours from my house. Next time I’m in Tennessee, I’m going to take the tour.

  3. K8 says:

    BrianF; Tsk. Obviously when I said Jack Daniels, I meant Johnny Walker Black Label. My editor needs to be sacked.

    Jefferson; It’s a fun job! Also handy to have on the CV for when I finally apply for that barwench work.

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