.... random rants and rambles. no agenda. yet.

Ridiculously, I owe the uni library £2.80 for a book I've borrowed and keep forgetting to return. I say this is ridiculous because I've renewed the book six times so far.

The first sentence in the above paragraph will annoy C very much because she hates any kind of fine, especially parking fines, which I always pray she won't get and am thankful it doesn't happen very often, because when it does she goes red and doesn't talk for a very long time. So anyway, when C reads this blog post she'll probably come charging into the office and demand to know WHERE THE BOOK IS SO THAT SHE CAN TAKE IT BACK HERSELF TOMORROW, JUST TO BE COMPLETELY SURE THAT I WON'T HAVE TO PAY ANY MORE STUPID FINES. The second sentence in the above paragraph will probably annoy the other people on my course, but I'm not too worried about that because there are other copies, and they don't read this blog anyway (well, at least I don't think they do *worried cheesy grin*).

In my defence, I keep meaning to read it - well, I have read it but not all of it - and I'm too busy/lazy (there is a fine line between those two words) to take it back to the library. Anyway I've renewed it again so I have seven more days to worry about it, which also gives me plenty of time to re-read the bit I need to read for my assignment.

All of the above reminds me of what happened when I was about six years old. My Dad always used to take me to the library, which was fab. One time I took a book out, and for some reason, we didn't go back again for ages. I'm not sure what happened but I managed to hang onto that book for years and years. As the years rolled on, I got more and more worried about the book, because inside my head, I could see the fine going UP AND UP AND UP AND UP UNTIL I OWED THE LIBRARY £1,000,000,000. Well, that's how you think when you're six.

By the time I was about nine, I realised that I didn't have £1,000,000,000 so I would have to ask my Dad instead (though I don't think he had that much either)... so I told him what happened and expected him to shout a lot because he doesn't like fines either. Funnily enough, he didn't - instead, he just drove me to the library and took the book in for me because I was too scared to do it myself.

I still remember sitting in the car imagining my Dad writing a cheque out for £1,000,000,000 and having to remortgage the house or whatever it was adults did to get money in those days. When he came out of the library he just laughed a small laugh and refused to tell me how much he'd had to pay, but it was nothing to worry about, he said.

I still have no idea what happened that day, but thanks again, Dad ;o)