Oh and it looks like we're going to have to camp as we can't stay where we were going to on Sunday night, so not only am I climbing a mountain I'm braving the outdoors overnight! I know, that's not right is it? I may have gone mad.
My finger is sore. It's a work-related injury. Sellotape is dangerous. Okay, I should probably explain so I don't sound quite so pathetic, though I don't think I'll come out sounding much better. It's those sellotape dispenser things you see, I hate them, I don't think they're very helpful at all, I find it much easier to just bite the sellotape, I guess they're good in that you don't have to find the end, but other than that what use are they? and why do they have to be quite so sharp. I cut myself on it yesterday, I wasn't even using the stupid thing, I was picking up books from by it and I scraped it. It's quite painful having about 4 small parallel cuts on your little finger. The really sad thing is, this isn't the first time. I can recall at least 2 other sellotape dispenser related injuries.
Helen was saying that our accident book at work would make amusing reading. We never actually fill it in, maybe we should start enforcing the filling in of it, when it was full we could stick a label on it and put it in circulation with the other books, I bet people would read it. I'm trying to think of some of the ridiculously simple accidents that happen, one of the librarians fell over a chair the other day, he went flying backwards towards the window, whilst still recovering from that and with pain in his leg he banged his elbow on the counter. I've dropped books on myself a few times, plus there's the millions of paper cuts we get. There's a castle in our library, I know, how on earth do we fit an entire castle in a library? Okay, it's not actually a real castle, it's a kind of playhouse thing, just wooden walls, it has boxes of picture books inside, it's really annoying, 'cos it's too hgh for you to climb over the walls, but the entry is so low you have to crawl in, that results in some bumped heads. Usually I don't go in, I just kind of lower books into the box from outside.
Hmm, the accidents aren't sounding that amusing now, maybe I need to think of more of them, and build them up a bit.
It's a good job we don't have a stack in our library. I never actually went in the one at
Uni, I was always convinced that I'd get in the middle and someone would move them, crushing me to death. I don't know if that's ever actually happened. I know people have been killed in paternosters, but I had a go in them, I didn't feel so scared of them because you're not in an enclosed space, it may be dangerous, but at least you can see if you're going to be cut in half. I was just trying to work out how you spell paternoster and if there's a site about them, so I was searching on google, what I've found is that paternoster means "Our Father" you probably knew that and I'm demonstrating my ignorance, ahh well, I'm presuming then that they're called that because you pray when you're in them? I guess I should search further to find out if that's actually what they're called. Okay, so I've added lift to my search and yes, that is what they're called, found
an article dealing with them facing extinction. It informs me that the name comes from the rosary, as the pattern of the lifts is like the beads in a rosary. I see. The article says that they must be removed from Czech buildings because they don't meet European safety requirements. Does that mean the paternosters in the Attenborough Tower will be going too?
Helen has just entered my room, she informs me that she and
James researched Paternosters and that they weren't called that because they looked like rosary beads, oh and Helen says I'm ignorant for not knowing it was "Our Father", apparently everyone knows that. Not me, no, I know no Latin, I can't even remember how to say the sailors are in the tavern even though Helen taught me it last weekend and I spent ages repeating it. Helen's brought me the address now of the
site James found but hah, it was like a rosary.
