Bereft of a working printer, I’ve just spent the last hour cruising the streets of South Leeds/North Wakefield attempting to find a library to print off a package label. A frustrating odyssey where, after finding the first three book lenders closed, at a fourth attempt I finally fulfilled the task. Stanley Library, on the north Wakey suburbs, eventually able to facilitate my request.
Incidentally, Stanley Library is a council owned property providing written journals for people in the Wakefield borough of Stanley. Not to be mistaken for Mr & Mrs Library’s young son Stan, who counts embellishing chaste A4 paper with printer ink amongst his idiosyncratic hobbies.
The staff at this book lending facility were a friendly and responsive bunch, who thoughtfully mentioned the printed output would be cheaper if I joined as a member. However, as with the cost a mere 60 pence for three pages of printed A4 output, yours truly stood the financial hit.
An additional factor in not embracing their kind membership offer was the fact I live over 10 miles from the council bookish establishment, meaning there’d be little chance of revisiting the place. A conclusion reached when taking into account I don’t even use the library on my doorstep in East Ardsley. Consequently, there’d be zero chance I’d venture over that way; irrespective of how amenable the staff were.
Ironically, the hour or so’s hassle at getting three sheets of paper printed (of which I only needed one) wasn’t even my fault. This inconvenient malarkey consequential of the manufacturer cocking up deliveries to yours truly and another fella going by the moniker Gary S……. He hopefully not facing a similar rigmarole as those yours truly experienced when forwarding his product.
Anyhow, it’s all sorted now and hopefully within the next 24-48 hours Gary Stanisford and Gary Strachan will have the correct parcels unceremoniously rammed through their respective letterboxes. Meaning at the end of the week I’ll be in possession of a ‘Mally’s Bar, Yorkshire’ beer towel and he’ll have his bespoke ‘Gary & Gail’s Hot Tub Bar’ mat.
If I’d have know the furore I’d have experienced forwarding Mr Stanisford his Amazon product, and I’d a partner called Gail and owned a hot tub, I probably just’ve kept his bar item. However, I’ve no immediate intention of procuring a hot tub or indeed limiting myself so specifically partners name wise.
Anyhow, as I commence this paragraph, BBC TV daytime show Bargain Hunt plays out in the opposite corner of the living room. The licence funded channel affording contestants trademark cack prizes; along tacky one size fits all t-shirts/fleeces to wear while shopping for cut price antiques, with a view to profit at auction.
As with fellow daytime broadcast Homes Under The Hammer, my mum loves this TV programme. Witnessing somebody win 60 pence in auction profits providing her a bizarre adrenaline rush. Although, the couple who won that vast sum will, if so desired, at least now be able to afford three printed sheets of A4 at Stanley library, I guess.