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Monday, 1 August 2016

In which One is a human library...

That's me that is, Dear Reader, requesting silence for One, The Human Library, free to the people, that's you, Dear Readers...

                                                                                 ~

Yesterday One biffed off to a superior home care company to offer One's services, having been worn down to the bone by One's current employment...

'I think you can say, without doubt, that an offer of employment will be with you shortly,' said the delightful person who interviewed One.

'Phew,' thought One, off on the road again for as long as the valiant Volvo can function.

Even so, at present One doesn't earn enough to keep the Underground Lair functioning.  One still has no hot water and, this month, has been utterly unable to pay the mortgage.

                                                                                ~

                                                                            
On Saturday, One was visiting One's chums emporium when in biffed a pair of Wivey-ites...

'We want to buy Claire's picture,' said the female of the species.
One, being aforementioned Claire, turned to reveal Oneself to One's public.
'Oh, look, there she is,' beamed the prospective purchaser.
'I'll get it out of the window,' said One's chum, and proceeded to clamber over items various to retrieve the masterpiece.

'Oh, not that One,' continued the customer, 'we want the bonkers one with all the bright colours in it.  We've been admiring it for ages and I want to buy it for my husband's birthday.'

The painting in question had been sold a while back.  You people must realise that One's offerings do not hang around indefinitely.  They are specifically priced for the Somerset pocket and their sale represents the removal of the monthly dilemma of whether to eat or pay the bills.

The coves perused the current offering...
'Oh we would have bought it had we not just bought two chairs over the road,' said she.
'I spit upon your chairs,' said One, 'Don't come in here bemoaning your fate when you've been over the road (the competition) buying sodding chairs.'

One delivered this monologue with One's customary beatific smile, but really One meant every word.

'How much would you charge to paint me one like the one that's been sold?' enquired the double-denim husband.  (Double denim is a mistake, especially in the over 55's)
One quoted a figure that was four times less than if One was quoting for one of the high end galleries One supplies.  Still the cove looked nonplussed! 
'I'll think about it,' says he.
THINK- A- FECKING- BOUT- IT.
What the feck do these stingy blighters want from One?

One positively flounced out vowing to paint the piece, double the price, and hang it tantalisingly in the shop.

                                                                            ~

So, 'tis with this dilemma in mind that One returns to the fact that One is a human library, free of charge to the people of the world.
Why, if even just the 675 Russians that read about One's doings yesterday, Crowd Funded One, One would be able to sup the Ambrosia of life, pay the mortgage on the Underground Lair and write with one hand and paint with the other...





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