I can’t remember a thing. After the two months at the temporary Bookwitch Towers, when I had everything worked out just so, and it even worked, I do not have a clue.
Two weeks in the new house, followed by three weeks not in the new house, is playing havoc with all that I know and hold dear. Where are the books? And which books? I know most ‘past’ books are still packed in boxes. But more recent working material? How and where?
I discovered one small shelf with some unread books. Later on I discovered a whole bag full of the stuff, too. But which category? I have looked for lists. Those that tell me what I might blog about and those that list publication dates. There is a list of books connected to the Edinburgh International Book Festival. Some I already have, some I am stupid enough to consider asking for. (Like, when would I read any of them?)
Today I intend to do a first foray into Charlotte Square, to see if I’ve got what it takes. For one hairy moment the Resident IT Consultant offered to drive me. My heart nearly stopped. If I can’t read for two hours on the train there and back, whatever system I still have in operation will fail.
The nicest thing he can do would be to heat up the haggis for dinner as I return home.
Even the three weeks away worked better than this past weekend has done (admittedly, I did use it to rearrange the kitchen). And then as you try to organise things, there is a request to find out if the 181 bus in Los Angeles is running…
And it’s raining. I have no wellies, so will have to decide which pair of shoes to sacrifice to the Charlotte Square mud puddles. (Better than tar pits in LA, obviously, but still destructive.)
OK, here goes!