For a brief time I had a little known affliction, perhaps not peculiar to me. Empty Shelves Syndrome. You may have experienced something like this when going through that crisis called Moving House.
Friendly strangers invade the building. Starting with the loft they denude all the book storage space and pack the books into “small” boxes (essential they aren’t larger because books are weighty). Then they transfer them downstairs ready for transport — along with everything else required on voyage — to a new home one hundred miles away. But still in Wales.
Now, of course you’d like to see some views of their latest resting place. Sadly, that’s not yet to be. Builders are due, imminently, to begin renovating and remodelling work on the new house which, after nearly two centuries, is set for another phase of TLC. So most of the reading matter is remaining packaged up, ready for easy movement and staying one step ahead of the builders.
As the building is roughly Regency period I’m at least giving a nod to its age by completing Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. That’s when I’m not unpacking boxes — those with no books in them of course.
Lest you’re disappointed and bereft because there are no books to see, here is a picture of the front door knocker of chez nous. A fantastic Mr Fox. An oblique Roald Dahl reference will have to do you. Very apt as he was born in Wales.