Agatha Christie: challenge vs dignity.
I kind of had an inkling before I set out on my path to the Poirot challenge achievement, mentioned, previously, that a lot of my issue for never reading any until I reached 36 years of age was an ingrained prejudice and perception on my part. This, I believed I had overcome. Well, tonight a little part of that false perception has come true. Perception has become truth. I have been supplied by both Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire library services for my book requests and with all challenges, I have discovered a friend, who I name 'Challenge ally' who has their own vast, Poirot Library, which I am now fortunately a member of and plundering regularly.
However, in my over eagerness to get ahead, after the delivery of 3 new books for me. (As a digression, I will now describe the last transaction; I had three books to return and three books to receive and it involved me handing a bag into an open car window to our go between (her husband, but 'go between' suits the story better!), the 'go between' then hands over his three book parcel to me through same window and I put them into the boot of my car. This couldn't have looked more dodgy (think Miami Vice, here) unless of course it happened on a street, in the dark at 9pm at night. Which it did making it even more an extraordinary sight to the two people I had just given a lift to who witnessed this not knowing it involved the exchange of 'Belgian starred detective novels of the 1930's'.
Still, the deal had gone down and I now have three more to get through (nearly finished the first of the three, 'Cards on the table', which I am thoroughly enjoying and is motoring along at a pace. I thought I'd be clever and judged that I could search for the next one on the library system ('appointment with death'. And then, it happened.
They had only the one copy in all the county libraries. Brilliant thought I, as that is exactly the right number of copies I need. Just the one to read. So I place a hold on the said work, inwardly smiling in the knowledge that this would get me near the halfway mark. Then it dawns on me that the perception has indeed become a reality. (As I mentioned before, many months ago. I preconceived that Agatha Christie was mainly read by individuals of a certain age, usefully within some form of elderly care system drinking tepid tea and eating badly prepared and unexciting food (this is of course wrong) I have admitted this and now I am reading them they have indeed, become a certain epitome of fashion).
The book has arrived for collection from the local library. It should be a relatively quick read as the book itself is from their LARGE PRINT section! Yes, I have ordered my first ever and hopefully, last ever Large print book. I found this quite embarrassing mainly because I am under 85 years of age, the age at which I believe you are forced to only take books from the large print sections of libraries. These sections I have been led to believe contain three types of books (if my library is anything to go by), 1) Agatha Christie, it seems. 2) Western cowboy books, with bizarre titles and front covers and lastly but by no means the least 3) Anything ever written under the Mills and Boons, banner of romantic novels (by Novels, I mean trash and by romantic I mean hackneyed drivel written by people who make Barbara Cartland seem to be the literary equivalent of Oscar Wilde, or John Milton).
I know this, because I used to have to choose Mills and Boons books from the library on behalf of my Nannar. This is possibly the most embarrassing memory from my life (not involving animals/dwarfs and dark forests, obviously). Do you have any idea how awful it was trying to read the back page description (by description I mean, drivel of unending narrative garbage) to choose a suitable book? Mills and Boon is essentially a mind poison. However, as I am in category 1 section it does now mean that I have a book coming that I can read from 16 foot away. So if you find yourself talking to me and my eyes seem a little distant. It is not that I find you uninteresting and irrelevant. It is the fact I am reading my large print propped up in my front room window that can be viewed from space the font is so large.
However, in my over eagerness to get ahead, after the delivery of 3 new books for me. (As a digression, I will now describe the last transaction; I had three books to return and three books to receive and it involved me handing a bag into an open car window to our go between (her husband, but 'go between' suits the story better!), the 'go between' then hands over his three book parcel to me through same window and I put them into the boot of my car. This couldn't have looked more dodgy (think Miami Vice, here) unless of course it happened on a street, in the dark at 9pm at night. Which it did making it even more an extraordinary sight to the two people I had just given a lift to who witnessed this not knowing it involved the exchange of 'Belgian starred detective novels of the 1930's'.
Still, the deal had gone down and I now have three more to get through (nearly finished the first of the three, 'Cards on the table', which I am thoroughly enjoying and is motoring along at a pace. I thought I'd be clever and judged that I could search for the next one on the library system ('appointment with death'. And then, it happened.
They had only the one copy in all the county libraries. Brilliant thought I, as that is exactly the right number of copies I need. Just the one to read. So I place a hold on the said work, inwardly smiling in the knowledge that this would get me near the halfway mark. Then it dawns on me that the perception has indeed become a reality. (As I mentioned before, many months ago. I preconceived that Agatha Christie was mainly read by individuals of a certain age, usefully within some form of elderly care system drinking tepid tea and eating badly prepared and unexciting food (this is of course wrong) I have admitted this and now I am reading them they have indeed, become a certain epitome of fashion).
The book has arrived for collection from the local library. It should be a relatively quick read as the book itself is from their LARGE PRINT section! Yes, I have ordered my first ever and hopefully, last ever Large print book. I found this quite embarrassing mainly because I am under 85 years of age, the age at which I believe you are forced to only take books from the large print sections of libraries. These sections I have been led to believe contain three types of books (if my library is anything to go by), 1) Agatha Christie, it seems. 2) Western cowboy books, with bizarre titles and front covers and lastly but by no means the least 3) Anything ever written under the Mills and Boons, banner of romantic novels (by Novels, I mean trash and by romantic I mean hackneyed drivel written by people who make Barbara Cartland seem to be the literary equivalent of Oscar Wilde, or John Milton).
I know this, because I used to have to choose Mills and Boons books from the library on behalf of my Nannar. This is possibly the most embarrassing memory from my life (not involving animals/dwarfs and dark forests, obviously). Do you have any idea how awful it was trying to read the back page description (by description I mean, drivel of unending narrative garbage) to choose a suitable book? Mills and Boon is essentially a mind poison. However, as I am in category 1 section it does now mean that I have a book coming that I can read from 16 foot away. So if you find yourself talking to me and my eyes seem a little distant. It is not that I find you uninteresting and irrelevant. It is the fact I am reading my large print propped up in my front room window that can be viewed from space the font is so large.
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