Thursday, 21 June 2012

What happened when the postman rang the doorbell..


The postman rang the doorbell at 11.40 a.m. this morning and totally buggered up my day.  In a sort of good / bad way.  

I had about seventeen jobs to do – partly helping to get Partner-who-loves-tea ready for her students ‘residential’.  Each group of students on her Certificate and Diploma level courses attends a residential weekend which requires an enormous amount of work in advance – most of which is never seen or appreciated by the students themselves. 


 She and Colleague-who-is-generous are taking the Diploma group away to Foxhills – a marvellous old mansion near Cheshire’s Sandstone Trail - this weekend and we were putting the finishing touches to the dozen or so boxes of ‘stuff’ she will be taking on Friday. 

But, to get back to the postman.  What did he do that was so devastating?  He brought a new Terry Pratchett. 


 Terry has just published ‘The Long Earth’ in association with Stephen Baxter. I can’t resist opening a new book at the best of times but when it’s a Terry Pratchett I have to sit down for at least an hour and get into it.  I did that, totally ignoring everything around me.  I wonder when was the last time I didn’t finish a Terry Pratchett book on the day I got it?  

Only a supreme sense of responsibility and discipline got me out of the chair and back to work, leaving Terry to have his cup if tea.

So I’m looking for a pat on the back.  Only one more residential-related job to do until Partner gets back from work at about eight o’clock.  Then there are some jobs we need to do together.  In the meantime, once that one job is done, I can get back to ‘The Long Earth’.  Any other jobs can go hang for those three hours.  I’m not even going to get myself something to eat – Son-who-watches-films  has offered to do that for me…   



8 comments:

  1. Have you finished yet? It's nearly 7.0 pm!

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  2. Ah, lucky you :) I know I read something about that book somewhere - before publication - but I can't remember where (your blog?).

    Postmen don't ring any doorbells here... Usually when I've ordered something the size of a book I get an advice note that it's too big to deliver and I have to go and pick it up at the supermarket (there are no separate post offices any more either). I doubt they even bother to check whether it would actually go through a standard letter-box or not.

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    1. Gosh, I'd be going to the supermarket all the time. I should hate that systerm and it must be most difficult for you when you aren't feeling up to going out.

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  3. One of my favorite authors has taken to writing with a co-author and the books are not nearly as good. My opinion is that the lesser known authors (he had done this with more than one) have written the novel, and he allows his name to be on it. Goodness knows that I could be wrong, but, as my loving departed would say, "My mind is made up, don't confuse me with the facts!"
    Apparently your author still is writing up to snuff.
    D.T. The paper has been reporting that the main distribution center will be closing, perhaps one of the post office branches too. Is it inconvenient without your post office?

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    1. Interestingly I suspect you are largely right, SG. I think the plot and main themes are Stephern Baxter's but there are occasions when Terry Pratchett's humour comes through- as though he's read the main plot and then added the humorous twists.

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  4. Laughed when I read this. Have you finished the Terry Patchett yet? I too have to get stuck in with the book the minute it becomes mine.

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    1. Sdadly, I didn't get past page 115 yesterday. I'm hoping that once Jo is out of the door on her way to Foxhills at lunchtime I can curl up in bed with a cup of soup and MY BOOK!

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  5. Doorbell? What's a doorbell? That would imply the need to have the door locked so that someone can't enter. My postman opens the door and puts the letters inside. I know my neighbours are away if I get their letters too (the postie would find their door would be locked and they don't have a letter box, which for the information of those in most countries other than the UK is not a separate box but a slit in the front door). If I'm away my letters are just left in the porch or taken to Pat's in the next village.

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