They are here somewhere!

  

The innocuous request by Suzanne to borrow a few of my books has thrown me into a controlled panic.

     The last time that my books were even in a system that offered some sort of coherent order (at least according to MY rules) was when I was in Cardiff.  The move from Cardiff to Catalonia necessitated the packing up of all my books for transportation.     

     And then, at the other end, it was impossible to unpack them all because of restraints of space.  It was equally impossible not to have the maximum number of books available for me to see so, as soon as I could, I brought boxes of books, piecemeal, from the storage facility where the bulk of them were imprisoned.  This approach meant that my books appeared in irregular consignments which also meant a fairly chaotic arrangement on the shelves as they became available.

     I am ashamed to admit that the ‘fluid’ arrangement of my books has never really been taken in hand, with the end result that volumes from different genres and Literary periods rest cheek by jowl on shelves that laugh at any attempt at justification for their co-habitation.

     I keep telling myself that this un-systematic-system makes for interesting juxtapositions, and I have rediscovered various volumes in searching for something else that have easily deflected me from my main purpose, while at the same time reacquainting me with texts that I last read half a century ago.  Or even longer.

     And the fact I can say that gives one pause for thought!

     But to the present.  I know that I own the books that Suzanne has asked me for, but I’m buggered if I can find them.  As is usual in these expeditions (or excavations as they should be more properly known) I have come across things that I had forgotten about, yes, ‘things’ because my shelves are not just repositories for books but also accommodate framed pictures, tools, a soft toy, clothes and – you get the point, a well-run and organized library is not what I have, or would enjoy if I actually did have it.  I take the injunction “Know Thyself” not quite with the seriousness of the ancient Greeks, but as a gentle reminded to be aware of at least some of my limitations, and the ability to be ‘tidy’ is the antithesis of my affinity with clutter. 

     So, I should accept who things are and make the best of things and hope that in some other rummaging, order (of some sort) will emerge.   

Possibly.