(no subject)
In preparation for the County Show next weekend, and my annual trip to the Amnesty International bookstall where I will buy about one million books (okay, it's usually about the fifty mark, but hey), I decided to thin out my own collection somewhat and maybe take some with me to the stall. I managed to loosen my grip on 7. Yup, seven. Out of the several hundred that I own, I can bear to part with seven.
It's a sickness.
So, I decided to turn my attention to the bookcases in the sitting room. Now, a little background is necessary here, so bear with me. My house has been in the family for about 100 years. Not my family exactly, but A family. People have left and others have come, but no one has ever really moved out. For 100 years. The bookcases in the sitting room are built in and have glass doors, so the books in there don't get a huge amount of attention. There's the odd book in there that gets consulted a lot, like my mother's dictionary that sat there when we were kids, or my father's veterinary manuals, but for the most part the books are background.
Oh, the joys we've been missing out on!
As I was going through them today, I kept opening a book and thinking: "Oh, stellanova/daegaer would love this."
We have excesses of manliness, and the most delightfully ridiculous pre-Blyton children's books. I'm in heaven.
An example: from As We Sweep Through the Deep (A Story of the Stirring Times of Old according to the sub-title) by Dr. Gordon-Stables, R.N., I bring you the captions of the illustrations. Brace yourselves...
The men stood to their guns
The sentry was neatly seized and quickly gagged
Boarded and captured ship after ship
Nailed the ensign to the mast
Guess what book I'm reading tonight.
But I think my absolute favourite (even over all the biographies of missionaries, which are sure to be comedy gold) is The Household Oracle, which purports to be "a popular referee on subjects of household enquiry...with upwards of one hundred illustrations"
It is, indeed, invaluable. With its information on how to ventilate rooms by opening windows, it's prices (in l.s.d., of course) for Royal Axminster carpet, and its information on the correct mode of addressing a Baronet's wife, I wonder how I lived to the age of 28 without it. Heaven only knows how I haven't suffocated, paid over the odds for floor coverings and/or committed irrecoverable social faux pas!
Oh, and of course, there's the item in the chapter "Fancy Furniture" stating that "most modern houses are ftted with bath-rooms, so that householders are saved the trouble and expense of providing large baths", not to mention the half dozn or so pages devoted to the duties of servants.
It's a sickness.
So, I decided to turn my attention to the bookcases in the sitting room. Now, a little background is necessary here, so bear with me. My house has been in the family for about 100 years. Not my family exactly, but A family. People have left and others have come, but no one has ever really moved out. For 100 years. The bookcases in the sitting room are built in and have glass doors, so the books in there don't get a huge amount of attention. There's the odd book in there that gets consulted a lot, like my mother's dictionary that sat there when we were kids, or my father's veterinary manuals, but for the most part the books are background.
Oh, the joys we've been missing out on!
As I was going through them today, I kept opening a book and thinking: "Oh, stellanova/daegaer would love this."
We have excesses of manliness, and the most delightfully ridiculous pre-Blyton children's books. I'm in heaven.
An example: from As We Sweep Through the Deep (A Story of the Stirring Times of Old according to the sub-title) by Dr. Gordon-Stables, R.N., I bring you the captions of the illustrations. Brace yourselves...
The men stood to their guns
The sentry was neatly seized and quickly gagged
Boarded and captured ship after ship
Nailed the ensign to the mast
Guess what book I'm reading tonight.
But I think my absolute favourite (even over all the biographies of missionaries, which are sure to be comedy gold) is The Household Oracle, which purports to be "a popular referee on subjects of household enquiry...with upwards of one hundred illustrations"
It is, indeed, invaluable. With its information on how to ventilate rooms by opening windows, it's prices (in l.s.d., of course) for Royal Axminster carpet, and its information on the correct mode of addressing a Baronet's wife, I wonder how I lived to the age of 28 without it. Heaven only knows how I haven't suffocated, paid over the odds for floor coverings and/or committed irrecoverable social faux pas!
Oh, and of course, there's the item in the chapter "Fancy Furniture" stating that "most modern houses are ftted with bath-rooms, so that householders are saved the trouble and expense of providing large baths", not to mention the half dozn or so pages devoted to the duties of servants.