Every friday when I attend the end-of-week service at Sandy’s school I walk past a huge, evocatively gnarled tree which I’ve recently discovered to be a 400 year old Turkey Oak, and the third oldest oak tree in Scotland. Impressive. It has lived through so much but presumably only been affected by the changes of the seasons, the degrees of cold and precipitation each year, and the content of the air, which until the arrival of the RAF must have been sea-tanged and pure. Uprisings, famine, wars and pestilence , witchcraft and wizardry (there was a Laird of the estate who dabbled) haven’t touched it.
Or have they?
So far I’ve only walked past it in the dark but with the days drawing out I should be able to get a photo soon.
The weather is beautiful today but much too cold for my lungs. They react to it like frightened sea-anemones. Number two daughter on the other hand is sweating it out in Goa where she is doing a two-week Yoga course and so far loving both the heat, and the place. She sends back tales of water buffalo and bright birds. Maybe she’s in the fifth dimension I dream of.
My social life has resumed; visits from M & V, lunch with J, supper with returned travellers S & C who I am so glad to see back. They brought with them news of disappointing experiences with erstwhile friends but some inspiring travellers tales. Also dire warnings for those who might be thinking of buying land in foreign parts (which happily they weren’t.) Another friend who has settled in Croatia has told of the complications that can arise when the land is owned by all members of a family including the extended cousins. There are often 20 or 30 people to clear a sale and some can’t be traced. It’s rather worse in Croatia because the former occupants may have been driven out by the war and return to reclaim their property.
Meanwhile I ponder over the fate of the 1000+ books in my garage, mostly crisp and clean, mostly for sale for 1p on Amazon and, without a PPI, too heavy to make me any profit. I really can’t be bothered to shoot for a PPI (I confess I’ve forgotten what it stands for but the upshot is a deal whereby one pays upfront to the PO each month and gets postage much cheaper per book. It would only be only worth it if I was getting at least three times the number of orders per week and frankly I’m too lazy to do all that packing now I’m enjoying the Age of Irresponsibility. )
So, I have various choices. The Charity Shops seem to be inundated with books so that’s out. The Mole-Catcher might take some for his stall in the indoor market in Elgin; an Amazombie colleague in Edinburgh who comes through this way occasionally to visit a friend might take some. I would be happy to let them take them for free obviously.
The last option is the recycling centre but I don’t like throwing books away.
5 comments:
insulation?
Yes. I could put it in one of those chipping machines and sell bags of it. There's a thought.
I got rid of boxes of worthless ones in bulk at the local auction house. Cleared pleasing double figures after collection, storage and VAT fees.
Cheers Gillian
Had to remove the last post because of multiplicity of typo. More haste...
The gist was:
That's also a good idea. Our most local auction house closed but there's one in the next town. Boxes often go for less than a fiver but it all mounts up. Clever distribution of the more desirable titles or more interesting old leather-bound vols is the trick - one to each box!!
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