This S it

The other day One completed the read of the 'S' tome of one's A to Z of Unread SciFi and Fantasy Authors.

This one is another slight deviation into the historical however reading it did lighten the load on one's to-read shelf, and the Roman empire has long been the template for many a fantasy and sci-fi empire, so I will allow it.

The volume in question is Under the Eagle by Simon Scarrow.

It ended up being an okay read, but One found the anachronistic modern British squaddie presentation of the legionaries to be a bit grating after a while - too many 'get into it lads' and other sundry UK modes of speech, all the more weird as the legion proceeds to invade England in the latter half of the story.

Given all that, it was still an okay 2 and a half star read.

Next in the AtoZ series will be a T from one's shelf, so, once again, no recommendations needed. 

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The Big Outside

 So in this past week one has had to return to the big outside for applying one's many-yeared IT expertise in plugging cables in underneath desks.

It involved a joyous commute in which getting a set to oneself was a guaranteed experience, and given one had a whole block of seats to oneself, the joy of spreading out without having to be on bag-moving watch was also indulged.

Scrambling around under desks, groping in cable hutches, and hefting IT equipment from place to place did remind one of the value of ones education and made one further appreciate the extensive use one had been able to make of Sidekick for such tasks over the past semi-decade. It also occasioned one to realise that one's one year redundaversary had passed at the beginning of the month - a short musing on one's being a bit better off was cut short by having to resume jiggling cables through joinery.

One decided to relax from the strains of doing actual work by hosting, along with Salsa Girl and Hulk, a Legion family gathering to mark Freeloading Mum's birthday. One relaxed to the soothing sounds of Hulk and her cousins thrashing out on One's drums and Hulks recorder and accompanying themselves with continuous avant-garde vocal performance. One's eardrums were still relaxed hours after the event had wrapped up.

One is looking forward to recovering from the gathering by crawling under desks in the week ahead.

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Remembrance and Reacquaintance

 As things have headed towards the direction of normal this past month or so, One has become reacquainted with one's old nemesis - The Deadline. The strangeness of one's past year means that The Deadline is not being wielded by Supervisor Grand Chief K but by one's latest supervisor - Sis (is a Tales Name change to Supervisor Sis perchance required?)

In any case The Deadline has kept one busy with work in the form of rapid iterations of system changes to keep up with the current environment, and a multitude of projects lurching back to life as society does much the same.

So, while all this has been taking one's attention there have been a couple of other things for one's attention.

Remembrance came up on the first anniversary of The Tiger's passing. Salsa Girl, Hulk and I took the time to say a few words of what we missed of her and how a year without her in the household had been. We then commenced scattering a pinch of her ashes in all of her favourite places - various nooks about the garden, the couch, the arms of the couch, the kitchen bench, atop One's head, and so on. Those who know her should know that we shall be round to your place to scatter ashes on, and in, your gaming bag, and upon your coat that rested upon that chair and couldn't be retrieved from under her for hours that one time.

Reacquaintance came in the form of a multi-day visit from Grandma J - the first since one's birthday soiree. We reacquainted ourselves with feasting, chatting, and the delightful sound of a joyful child being run through her night-time routine by someone other than ourselves.

Coming soon is a reacquaintance with going in to an actual workplace rather than simply staggering up to one's computer desk in naught but a shirt.
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The Festival of Neety

The eponymous event was, this year, a sprawling pentadiem in honour of the hatching of Salsa Girl. Given the secluded nature of the current times the event was stretched out over the full five days with Hulk and I doing our best to provide enough small joys for Salsa Girl to equal the joy of the usual gifting and out in the world excursioning and feasting.

So as the five day festival finally draws to a close we can take heart that the hidden messages, flowers, clue hunts, feasting, massaging, rummy-playing, and other sundry undertakings, seem to have done the job - although fingers crossed that the lack of the usual important footy game at this time of year has not marred Salsa Girl's experience.

The only thing remaining, as One mashes out this post with claw-like hands mangled from five days of massaging, is to see the long, long recovery period to completion.

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8 years, 10 years, & 8 years

So, for the past few months, One has had most of One's time consumed with work - of the From Home type - intertwined with educatory duties, causing One to, once again, neglect the Tales.
As well there have been several anniversereal events occurring that required One's attention and diligent application in the night before the exam kind of way.

Anniversary the first was the celebration of Hulk having attained 8 years. It was celebrated with a sprawling affair constituting our very own mystery - Harry Potter and the Sinister Simulacrum - replete with clue finds, classes, much table quidditch, and the stunningly original revelation that the new teacher Professor Robot Automa was in fact the Sinister Simulacrum and not Hulk's new automated lizard present that all clues pointed towards. (One has a mind to shop one's virtuoso script around Hollywood).

Preparations for this event included much creation of decorations which number among them these Every Flavour Beans, with attitude:

Beans with attitude...

Other preparations included a month of vigorous beard growing by oneself in order to get that Dumbledore look. It was successful on the axis of white colouring but the length was several feet short. Unfortunately Hulk as demanded that One keep growing said beard until it reaches the requisite length, which has resulted in much amusement in one's many video meetings. 

Anniversary the second was to celebrate the 10 years that Salsa Girl and I have been together. With all potential minders quarantined away from us it was celebrated joyfully as a family with Hulk cramping our style. There was a gastronomical event or two one evening feast and one a banquet that went for most of the weekend. Having not succumbed to any more grump towards one another during seclusion than usual it looks like Salsa Girl and I have another 10 (or more) wonderful years to look forward to.

The Third Anniversary was the anniversary of ones father's days which now number 8.
Astute readers will note that this number coincides with the Hulk number! Living in these apocryphal times has taught me that when numbers align like that it must mean something of great import, and that shadowing figures must be manipulating things behind the scenes!

This celebration was more subdued coming on the heels of the previous one and was interspersed with a video call to Handy Dad and Freeloading Mum, wherein they proceeded to ridicules one's beard with statements to the effect that One now resembled Handy Dad.

So now that these events are all over One should have plenty of time to .... ummm...

Oh no! 

Salsa Girl's birthing anniversary is coming up!!!!!!!

Excuse me, I have to get to it. We'll talk later.

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Further great benefits

It seems that the achieving of a half century commences an accruing of special benefits upon oneself.

The most recent of which is long awaited, and much desired by oneself and also the likes of FridgePower, yes it is the much coveted, government-given right to send poo through the mail.

After much careful planning, One took to the task with glee and forthwith dispatched the first missive.

However, one of the travesties of government is that they can take away one's rights as a trifling matter.

This was the sad case for me as I soon found myself in receipt of an official government letter that summarises thusly:

Dear sir,

There is no need for you to continue sending poo in the mail. 

Please discontinue the practice immediately.

Sincerely, some cruel government official

Of course One was enraged by such a broach of basic human rights and began contacting rights organisations to commence action.

Perplexingly none of them seem to be interested in one's case...
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R we there yet?

So One has completed the read of the 'R' tome of one's A to Z of Unread SciFi and Fantasy Authors endeavour.

This one came straight off the unread books shelf at home and had been impatiently awaiting it's chance as it generally seems to be highly regarded.

The volume in question is The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss.

It is the first "Day" in the Kingkiller Chronicle.

Now, whether it was: an over-anticipation thing; or a lack of long reading spells in these zero commuting days; or the simultaneous reading with Hulk of  "Born-special boy wizard goes to wizard high school" making the large segments of wizard university a bit too samey; this one didn't soar to great heights with me.

It was an enjoyable read, and I found no problems with the flow of prose, so I guess it was the plot which was lacking in the awe-inspiring realm?

Given all that, it was still a solid 3 and a half star read.

Next in the AtoZ series will be an S from one's shelf, so, once again, no recommendations needed.

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The Age of a Stump

Well nearly a fortnight has passed, and that is surely enough time for the dust and various other substances related to the momentous events of the half century of StumpyRudolph to settle - not to mention the several upset tummies that one was in far too close proximity to on the day.

The first warning sign that one should have heeded was when Sneaky Pete withdrew his attendance to said event - the Sneakster has oft been like a canary in a coal mine in regards to sensing when things will go awry.

The next ominous sign was when BestFriendSincePrep declared that he wasn't really drinking anymore and then a scant five minutes later was clutching a beer like it was the ultimate prize. "oh, just a light beer then" One enquired, "Nah. It has to be heavy"

Warning the third was when MrRogers took off early citing having things to do whilst the wild eyed look of one who has recognised impending doom crossed his face.

The fourth sign was when the aforementioned BestFriendSincePrep began a vigorous wine tasting sprint.

After that the signs began to tumble past in a flurry - the next 9 odd signs were shot-glass shaped and One has never been more chuffed to be the designated driver at a celebratory event.

Shortly after that, surprisingly, StumpyRudolph was apparently suffering some form of paralysis in the corner of the kitchen while goodbyes were begun, and then rudely interrupted everyone with some quite raucous sounds.

After making a mess of comforting him in the mess, BestFriendSincePrep and I took our leave despite one of us having taken to displaying a paler than normal visage.

We had covered the huge distance of half a kilometre down the road when BestFriendSincePrep sighted some delightful scenery at the side of the road that required urgent close inspection.

BestFriendSincePrep espied several other scenic locations on the 20 minute drive home that took over an hour before I had him home and nigh mute in greeting his family.

One then trundled on home with a rather debilitating slight headache from One's three glasses of wine.

All in all the ageing of StumpyRudolph was a timely reminder of the wisdom that comes with age.
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Goodbyeing Groovy Spirits

So it's been more than a week since the sad occasion of saying one's goodbyes to Groovy Spirits.

She of the spirits had shown great spirit in her year long fight and it is a bit of a shock to hear that she - who was so full of life and energy at one's combination farewell and Library Xmas party - had not prevailed.

One made the trip south with Hulk for emotional support to partake in the farewell along with her family and other friends/workmates. Upon arrival we joined those numbering beyond the 20 officially allowed inside during these times of plague, and lurked at the outskirts of the foyer. Luckily there was an external speaker system so we were able to hear both the eulogy and the poignant speech made by Big J - both of which touched on the fun and foibles of life and friendship with Groovy Spirits.

Afterwards - well, after some hours worth of Hulk-led traipsing through the grounds - there was attendance at a further gathering at the library to commemorate further. A sadness-tinged catch up with old workmates occurred before we were homeward bound again.

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Oh Spirits, the distance of first your long leave and then one's disenfranchisement of employment had lead to a distance and lack of news making it easy to assume everything was going okay.

I was already missing our work hours spent talking footy, and our work hours spent talking books, and our work ours spent talking shows - and we never did get to compare opinions on the ending to Game of Thrones - and now I just have the memory of those many, many, many hours.
(Poor Roysgirl had to bear the full load of One's biological need to talk footy for the last season, and has suffered greatly for it as I'm sure you'd understand.)

For those snippets of work we'd fit in between the talking, I missed having your apostrophe hunting skills available for One's project documentation, and I shall kind-of miss those times when we butted heads about things, but most missed will be the exuberant energy that filled the workroom when you were there.

I'm sure I'll slip up and text you during an exciting part of a footy game in the coming years and then wait in vain for one of your "sorry I was too drunk to watch the last quarter" replies.

Vale Ursula.

Far too soon does not describe things nearly well enough.
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Every Boy's Dream

During One's recent-ish ceremonial undertaking, one had the opportunity to live out the dream every boy has cherished since time immemorial.

One lived it out thusly...

It also included a mini-me by Hulk

In the process of living the dream one discovered that the world is composed of two types of people. Those who call one attired in such a display of costumery Napoleon; and those who are now dead to me forever - sea captain indeed!

Winning at this part of the proceedings was Illuminated G, when he proclaimed that the only reason to gather so many people together was to have enough people to perform a re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo. Oh the sadness that evoked as it made one aware of lost opportunities ... oh wait, perhaps Illuminated G was only winning at tormenting me?

In any case, One is now satisfied to have lived every boy's dream.
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The Curse

So, One had a ceremony of significant numbers a few months back.

One's head is only now finally clearing - after having had to sample all the fine liquids one was gifted - and regular posting to The Tales shall recommence forthwith.


It seems that One's ceremony celebrating all things Phill has inadvertently enacted a cursing of the land to come into fruition and that curse is stopping all those very same things:

• performing music for a crowd - stopped
• playing board games - stopped (although it does feel a little like one has hallucinated one's way into one's boardgame Pandemic)
• face to face catch-ups and chatting - stopped
• sharing food and drink with friends - stopped
• One's intentions to catch up with those that couldn't make it to the ceremony - stopped
• supporting One's sportsball team - stopped
• reading comics and books - oh wait that one survived, phew

The tragedy of it all is that One has no idea how to unwind this curse - perhaps it will just fade away on it's own in an "I got better" kind of way. Fingers crossed.

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In any case the celebration day itself was grand and One once again magnanimously thanks everyone who came and for those that didn't make it One completely understands that life happens - and you are now in no way responsible for cursing the land.

A big thank you to the band for the time they put in to help make the performance happen and happen awesomely. We even have recordings so the oft requested album may come out some day.

One had a magnificent time even though I didn't manage to spend the allocated 5 minutes with each attendee.


Many future catch ups will have to happen once the curse is lifted.
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Woa-oh! Half way there!

So the other day one passed the semi-centenarian mark.

Not much felt different -  there were no sudden aches and pains joining the existing ones, there were no sudden urge to tell those damn kids to get off my lawn, and there was no sudden memory loss that I can recall.

So overall I remain a twenty-something year old trapped in a 5-decade body and wondering when it all happened.

So thanks for all the hatching day wishes and all the impacts, big and small, you've had on my half century of life.

I'm looking forward to the big party this weekend and then to the many days of afternoon naps One is entitled to as One cruises gently into retirement.
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The IT Man Out of Libraryland

So it's a new year and a new me.

Here's a Caution for you all: do not get too comfortable in your 14 year Libraryland career as, all of a sudden, with no prior consultation (nor thought apparently), the higher ups at the organisation may decide that a restructure is required.

Said restructure may take place with an aim to make the organisation "Sector Leading", which apparently involves having no Library Technology Coordinator (and also no Library Manager!).
And so One has found one's job to be "at risk of redundancy" and then after the "consultation period" confirmed to be not required.
Various spurious sounding "reasons" were stated: rationalising IT in the library; the two positions were too close-knit with each other; having IT staff in the library is inefficient over-servicing; lines of communication were too long; etc.

Suffice to say that One is now a few months out of Libraryland, at a loose end, and looking for the next thing - One may even consider starting a rogue freelance library along with the now incorrectly named Supervisor Grand Chief K.

Having received appropriate compensation payments, one's calculations show that I shall not have to find gainful work for nearly a year - although Salsa Girl's extensive eyerolling seems to say I may have miscalculated slightly.

In any case I’m confident I’ll land on my feet and, knowing how hard it can be to escape the vortex of Libraryland I may well end up back in the biblio-chaos.


It has been a hard thing to say goodbye to 14 years of being at the one workplace. One notices the severe lack of all the daily interactions, conversations, cakes, challenges, cakes, successes, failures, cakes and everything else that is a part of the swirling maelstrom that is working in the library - even the “work” part will be missed believe it or not.


One is also now not allowed to be a part of the many library secret societies - or "user groups" as they are called - and will dearly miss the discussion, cocktails, networking, lunching, helping each other out, biscuits, and even the bickering, that comes with interacting with so many others in a similar role.

It is sobering in thought - and also in practice - to never regularly see the many people of Libraryland that one has been involved with for much of the 14 years of service.


Still, one is diligently pushing forward and tackling - to the best of One's ability - the task of day after day of doing nothing but relaxing.
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