Books in Charity Shops

I much prefer the charity shops who try to arrange their books in some order. After the usual sortings, of the fiction from non-fiction, some now even loosely order their fiction by author surname. [That just reminded me of the sketch by the Two Ronnies where Mr Barker worked in a library which arranged its books by size and colour - which also reminds me of the time I asked two pupils to tidy the school library, who did just that]

Well, we did get a few books today, to add to my TBR pile, but I do have a compulsion to organise the charity shop bookshelves still further. You know, group all the Wendy Holdens and Danielle Steeles together. There always seems to be loads of those. I have also noticed a trend when there appears to be a surfeit of particular titles. Harry Potter books seem to be more second-hand prolific now as do those written by James Patterson and Sophie Kinsella, but the range in pricing varies so. Some charity shops charge as little as 25p for paperbacks while others charge more than the current range of offers from W.H. Smith, Waterstone's and Woolworths do for new.

My Second-favourite Drink

Of course, if one has over-imbibed of the fermented apple, there needs to be an effective antidote.

Into a juicer, throw the following (washed first, and preferably organic).

3 large tomatoes, quartered
3 stalks of celery
5-6ish inches of cucumber
1 garlic clove
and a handful of parsley, if you have it.

I always put the pulp through the juicer a second time and then strain it all into a glass. This will make about half a pint. The pulp usually goes in the compost bin but it could be used in soups, stock or vegetable breads (freeze until needed).

If you can bear to wait, chill the juice while you dismantle and wash the juicer, or just add a couple of ice cubes and stir.

Of course you can vary the recipe. To treat colds and ‘flu add extra garlic and tomato and decrease the cucumber and celery – delicious, and keeps vampires away too.

I don’t like celery much, and cucumber gives me indigestion but in a juice, no problem. Juices are great if you’re slimming too, as they take the edge off your appetite and deliver their goodness direct.

An apple a day?

I just prefer them when the juice is fermented.

I have always loved the taste of cider. As a child, apart from a tiny glass of Guinness or Mackeson with my Sunday roast, my favourite drink was Corona Cydapple. Non-alchoholic of course, but cider-flavoured fizzy pop. Instead of ice-cream, I'd always choose the cider-flavour ice lolly. Now I can't seem to find these, or even an equivalent any more.
At Christmas, Dad used to get bottles of Cydrax, again, this was non-alchoholic and not as fizzy as pop. The strap line was "Cider's little sister" and it was pure heaven.

In later years, after many flirtations with various drinks including Bacardi & Coke, gin & tonic, even brandy & Babycham, I have returned to the fold of cider drinkers, with the occasional vacation into real ale territory. I can also enjoy a glass of wine, but I am not a spirits drinker at all. Whiskey, I'm afraid, I call 'Devil's urine' and that weird Pimm's stuff, allegedly popular at Wimbledon, just tastes like cold tea to me.

Yes, as a Westcountry maid, cider's the one. Not just any old cider though, not the ghastly fizzy, fermented glucose solution found in plastic bottles at the supermarket. Heaven forbid, that the cheap, gut-rot super-strength 'white cider' shall ever pass my lips again. No, I mean real cider, and only some supermarket available varieties.

Marty, my first dog.

Marty cost £4 in 1981 from the local Cats & Dogs home. I'd already decided on a small dog, as I only have a small garden, and small dog = less food & less mess! I was looking around in the pens and have almost decided on a little black dog, when 'Him Indoors' called me over to the big dogs enclosure. It was a very hot day, and all the big dogs were lying around, panting in the sun, and standing in the middle of them was this little mongrel (with a hint of Jack Russell) barking his little head off! We were told that he was in with the big dogs because he was too boisterous and noisy and upset the smaller ones, but that he was a nice dog, about a year old and had been brought in as a stray.

Well, we took him home on trial and he soon settled in -BUT- he wasn't housetrained and as novice dog owners, it was a trying time.
The trial period was ending, and I decided perhaps it wasn't such a good idea, and that he should go back. 'Him Indoors' reluctantly agreed with me but when I realised how happy Marty looked, every time he saw us, eyes shining, stumpy tail wagging - I knew he was going to stay.

Some weeks later when we were out, some gipsy kids came running over. "Look" they yelled "It's Gran's dog" and Marty did seem to recognise them. The children explained that Jason was their Gran's dog but they had to get rid of him because he kept killing their chickens!
Marty was a very mischevious dog, and very loyal companion. He lived to the age of 16 when sadly he became a victim of cancer. After almost a year of taking him to animal healing, and chemotherapy, we had to have him put to sleep. He is buried in a pet cemetery in the countryside.

These are a few of my favourite things.

Having been introduced to the world of blogging a few years ago, I thought it was about time I joined in.

I became a member of BookCrossing last Christmas and after having published my profile on my 'virtual bookshelf', I thought how it could easily grow into a Blog so why not start one?

You can find BookCrossing by clicking on the link on the right.