She really is.
I was meant to write this blog post yesterday, but Mother Nature spent the entire day tormenting me, so I was far too upset and exhausted to even contemplate it.
Why is she so mean?
She’s obviously reading my blog, specifically my last two blog posts filled with all the joys of Spring. It clearly sent her over the edge. I awoke at around 4.30am Tuesday morning to hear her sending down all the vengeance of the sky, pouring down rain so heavy it sounded like it was coming through the roof. So heavy that we couldn’t even consider going back to sleep until she quietened down a bit, almost an hour later. Her sky in the morning was horribly gray and bruised from her battering the night before, but I decided (stupidly) to ignore it and go for a walk.
Hah! Mother Nature said. Right where I want her!!
She waited (like a bitch) until I was about three kilometres from home. Then she opened the heavens and threw down the best she had, coupling it with driving winds which made each droplet feel like a needle piercing my back. No cover to be seen. What followed was a desperate sprint through this torrential downpour, stared at bemusedly by every single car who passed me. I was so exhausted when I got home that my soaking gym clothes are still in a puddle on my bathroom floor.
But don’t worry, she hadn’t quite finished with me yet. Remember how I told you that we’re moving? Well, Mother Nature decided it was time to teach me one last lesson. The house we live in is incredibly old and old-fashioned, meaning the front door is one of those good looking but impractical set-ups constructed entirely of rotting wood and ancient, impossible to replace frosted glass. As I battled my way outside to get the bins to the street for pick up, Mother Nature played her final trick on me. She slammed that door shut so hard that she cracked three of the glass panes. Ancient, irreplaceable glass planes. To say we don’t have enough money to pay for this is the understatement of the year.
Mother Nature is a bitch.
I’m not even going to tell you what the weather is like here today, in case I bring forth more punishment. Instead, I will fill you in on what yesterdays blog post was going to be about. I’m going to draw a (figurative and literal) line in the sand here, because I want to put that bitch M.N. out of my head.
Ok, so on Sunday I told you that due to us moving I had to do something. Something horrible. Something that I have never done before, in my entire life. Some of you may have guessed it, others may not care. But I’m telling you anyway.
I had to…
I had to…CULL. MY. BOOKS.
(Don’t worry, no Penguin’s were harmed in this process.)
When I say I have never done this before in my entire life, I speak the truth. My current collection contains the following titles from my childhood:
- Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes (given to me on my christening, according to the inscription)
- Heidi by Johanna Spyri (originally belonged to a friend of my mother)
- The Nursery Peter Pan (belonged to my mother when she was a child)
- An enormous collection of Enid Blyton’s, including The Naughtiest Girl (given to me by my Nana on my tenth birthday)
- Nothing’s Fair in Fifth Grade by Barthe DeClements (there is an awful back story to this book, I’ll tell you one day)
- The entire Tomorrow When the War Began collection, by John Marsden
These are included in the books I’m keeping.
Included in the ones which are sadly biting the dust (or more accurately, being sold in our garage sale) are the following titles:
- Laying Down the Law 5th Edition (from my failed Law degree)
- One Day Cricket by Adam Gilchrist (from my brief stint, aged twelve, as a massive cricket fan)
- A few random The Babysitter’s Club books
- Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper (Trixie Belden series) by Kathryn Kenny
- Remembrance by Danielle Steel
- Books One& Two of the Fifty Shades trilogy, left here by my former room-mate. (I promise. I did actually try to read them but it was clearly beyond my intellectual capabilities, as I couldn’t seem to understand what the ‘author’ was trying to say.)
Biting the dust.
I also have to give a special mention to a special book. This was also handed down to me by my mother, but it hasn’t fared so well over the years. Nevertheless, I have continued to hold onto it as it is a truly spectacular little book. It is none other than Seven Little Australians by Ethel Turner.
This book has had a long and industrious career, but I think it is now time to lay it to rest. So begins the hunt for a new copy. If any of you see it in a second hand book store I would highly recommend picking it up, it is brilliant. (From memory. I haven’t read it for about fifteen years…)
So there you have it. A big step in my life, a huge moment. I still have a gigantic collection of books to move, including an entire set of Encyclopaedia Britannica’s (plus Atlas), but I’ll worry about that when I get to it. Which will probably be tomorrow. No gym for me.
A room without books is like a body without a soul.
Say no more.