The furniture series: table karma

I acquired this book-case this evening, by dint of hiring a van car (there was a fault on the van lock and it wouldn't let me in but the hirers found me a car not too far away with a big enough boot, just) and driving 43 miles. I don't like driving any more and especially not in the dark but I was a little mollified when, at the end of the trip, the car told me I was a good eco-driver (translation: I irritate other drivers by going too slowly) and to carry on as I do.

A friend came round for another reason entirely but helped me carry it upstairs and it now contains all my poetry books, plus drama on the bottom shelf. No-one is more surprised than I am at how many poetry books I own. When I was 13 at school I had the abominable choice between spending the subsequent two years studying either literature or music and I chose music.

To compound my ignorant inferiority, when I was 21-25 I had some stupendously snobbish out-laws who derided me for having gone to a comprehensive school and done Maths A level rather than acquiring poetry by heart (and, of course, learning how to cook, lay tables and arrange flowers).

I've had to work to catch up ever since and eventually acquired my English Literature A level when I was 52. (I doubt either of them worked to get a Maths A level in their 50s.)

I'd hoped to weed this collection but so far have managed to put only five poetry books on the charity shop pile.