Bitch on the Blog

July 22, 2016

Future

Being wedged between two of my desks (yes, I do have several, don’t ask) on this fine summer’s day I take a break. For light relief looking at one of my bookshelves without so much as getting up from my chair. That’s the trouble with high temperatures. First you crave them, then they render you inert.

One of the first outcomes of years creeping up on me, and – for reasons unknown – my ever growing fear of a blood clot forming somewhere in my body resulting in a much anticipated aneurysm, I will dwell on how to make my eventual demise easier on the Angel. So I let my gaze (see above bookshelves) fall upon a no doubt worthy book called “Now that we are Sixty”. I bought this about ten years ago. What possessed me I can only speculate on: The vintage dust cover?

So, having flicked through it once more, it has been binned. Yes, I know it’s sacrilege to bin books. At least I don’t burn them. Though the latter might be kinder than imagining landfill. And before any of you tell me about “recycling”, don’t. I am the queen of recycling. However, sometimes you don’t want to inflict your rubbish on anyone else.

Hugs and hisses,

U

 

 

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6 Comments »

  1. I have a lot more imaginary illnesses these days than what I used to. Sometimes knowledge is powerful and sometimes it’s just a liability

    Comment by Kylie — July 27, 2016 @ 02:26 | Reply

    • I am no hypochondriac. The opposite. Ask my doctor. He never sees me and I abhor tests.

      However, and this is where the “knowledge” you, Kylie, mention is lamentably inadequate, when the innards and workings for your body lie still, dormant. It’s your body. Think about it. You have no idea what (and if) there is waiting to ambush you, catching you unawares. That’s the type of thought you don’t want at three in the morning. My ex father-in-law and I united in the belief that most people die at four in the morning. As it happened he didn’t. But that’s beside the point.

      Cheers, to your and all our good health till we are ripe for the picking,
      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2016 @ 16:22 | Reply

  2. But who’s to say it’s rubbish? Someone else might find it useful and inspirational. The only books we throw away are ones that are faulty or filthy or falling to bits. All the others we take to the local War on Want bookshop, which is very glad to have them. But I must say I’ve never found any books on growing older to be helpful. I just do my own thing much as I’ve always done.

    Comment by nick — July 29, 2016 @ 07:28 | Reply

    • Yes, I know, Nick. And you are right. Still, sometimes I do reserve the right to decide that something is rubbish.

      Mind you, and to be truthful, before I emptied aforementioned bin into the delete of trash collection I did fish sa(i)d book out again. No fool like a book fool bound to print.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 29, 2016 @ 16:25 | Reply

  3. Being old and half blind, I read on a Kindle – so no binning, just the occasional “DELETE”. I have read over 70 books this year – but I read mostly mystery fiction. No ar and Peace type stuff for me. The latest genre that has me hooked is Native American mystery stuff. And if it is not up to snuff I simply delete the offending book. Gotta admit though – it does not happen often.

    Comment by shackman — July 30, 2016 @ 16:12 | Reply

    • What do you mean “half blind”? Please do elaborate. If only to feed my own fear. Still, I suppose better than lame. At least you can still walk. Into the next lamp post.

      Kindle, so far, eludes me on grounds of being aesthetically questionable. I am not knocking it. However, there is a – to me – marvellous, nay heartwarming, feeling being able to pull that book I know so well off the shelf – like ten years later. No bull. Can’t say I pride myself on an all round memory but for some reason I will always find what I am looking for. And then there is the joy of physically feeling the paper, turning pages. Finding long dried breadcrumbs. Or a leaf. Broken spines. Handwritten dedications.

      “War and Peace”? My dear Shackman, that’s what you read when you are eighteen and that wonderful summer break is stretching ahead of you into infinity. Though I myself was more into Dostoevsky (the spelling of his name eluding me to this day). “The Brothers Karamazov” and “Crime and Punishment” an education. And then there was “The Idiot”.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — July 30, 2016 @ 17:49 | Reply


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