Eight eight eight

It’s been a while. I’ve done my Bookwitching for eight years, eight months and eight days. I like numbers like that. And yes, I’m rather sad to be sitting here working stuff like this out.

This is obviously nowhere near as ‘numbery’ as the day I found myself working in post office number seven on the seventh of July 1977. That was a busy day, with ‘everyone’ wanting anything and everything stamped, and beautifully stamped at that. There’s nothing which makes for a steadier hand than having just one chance at getting the postmark right when a philatelist stands over you with some special stamps they’ve saved, asking for a particular stamp put in a particular spot, just the way they like it.

Oh well, no stamps here at all. Although I suppose I could have got myself a commemorative rubber stamp and offered it round the neighbourhood.

I did seriously consider having an 888 party. I mean a real, physical party. None of this online drinking champagne while wearing your pyjamas celebration. But first I worked out I might be busy (I am, so I got that right), and I realised my kitchen wouldn’t be ready enough for the onslaught of lots of guests. Third, I thought, what onslaught?

You’d have been invited if I had.

Might think about nine nine nine. Or just make it an even ten, if I last that long.

Orion's party at the October Gallery

Something a bit like this, in my – November/February – garden. I might supply blankets.


6 responses to “Eight eight eight

  1. V. Kathryn Evans


  2. Congrats – here’s to the next 8.8.8!

  3. Not sure I will last that long.

  4. This calls for a celebration. I’ll pop over to your house in a few minutes with some teabags and Cravendale!

  5. You’re not here yet. How long are you going to be?

  6. Pingback: 9, 9, 9 | Bookwitch

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