And here, ‘local’ means ‘200 yards from where I am now’.
For the past goodness knows how many months, the view from outside my window at work has been of a new bridge being built. It was claimed to be part of the economic regeneration of Swansea waterfront, but we all knew that its real aim was to enable us to get to the supermarket across the water that little bit quicker.
The bridge was scheduled to be complete last March, so sure enough, it opened last week. And it hasn’t taken long for its real purpose to be found. Not to rejuvenate the docks, not to bolster lunchtime sandwich sales but, well, as a convenient dropping-off point.
[dunno why they do it: the water’s brown…]
This wiblog is at pains to point out that its expression of interest in the Library Hotel is due to its eccentric categorisation of rooms according to the Dewey Decimal system, and IN NO WAY due to the ‘Erotica Package’ flagged rather prominently from the front page of its website. Thank you. You may now resume your previous activities.
Some people, if they’re feeling ordered, distracted or, well, anal, sort their books and record collections. Most do it in some sort of alphabetical order. A few do it by genre.
Being me though, at the age of eleven I decided to take everything to its logical screaming extreme and sort every single book I had according to the Dewey Decimal system. Yes, during my late pre-adolescence my shelves were ordered like a library. Literally. I still have my copy of Mr. Messy with a sticker on it saying “811.2”. (Goodness knows why, because that’s a code for ‘poetry’. Never let an eleven-year-old catalogue your books).
In my partial defence, I’m not the only one to push the classification system way beyond any sensible stopping point. Though if I ever stay the night in a New York hotel, I know which one I’d go for.
Oh, and since you’re probably curious, our CD collection is now arranged alphabetically by artist, from ACR to Zenopede. Which says a lot, all things considered.