Frivolous Monsters

Archive for the tag “Bury”

…in an Exciting Adventure with the Police – Part 02

In phoning 999 I’d teamed up with the Police to battle against the forces of darkness, those which emerge beyond the witching hour, but from our hero’s arrival at the scene of the crime time was already running out to solve the mystery of the woman in the sunken garden before the sun came up.

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…in an Exciting Adventure with the Police – Part 01

I am like a one-man Neighbourhood Watch. It didn’t pass our attention when someone mysteriously spray-painted one of our hedgehogs with a big cross on its back and I eventually became aware of the patterns of a certain twenty-something blonde neighbour whose hours seemed to be so in keeping with mine that I naturally deduced that she could hardly be a normal functioning member of society; although this was before I started to really pay attention to her activities and I got a right eyeful, because it turns out that she isn’t shy, and what with all the costume changes and the hours spent in front of her full-length mirror in various states of undress that I began to wonder if she was a right Belle de Jour. And I don’t mean in the blogging way.

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The Reading Room 08 – The Final End

I do not cope well with change. Of that I am sure. For my kamikaze writing career I’d come to rely upon my small table outside the toilet in Costa Coffee and the reading room in the library, as they were the only places in town where you could sit quietly and do some work1, and so I was therefore distraught when I was cast out of the reading room, beyond the reach of spiritually bereft librarians for ever, and it had nothing to do with hanging about with strange men in there like you might imagine. Library

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The Reading Room 07

I rounded off a visit to Costa Coffee by reading some of The Stepford Wives, a novel about the ultimate men’s club, before heading off to what I jokingly referred to as my own: late night library Wednesday in the reading room.

Bishop Brennan

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The Reading Room 06

In the library I found they had a copy of a Hunter S. Thompson book – The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967 – which I hadn’t read, but then discovered that some twisted local, presumably the previous borrower, hadn’t so much taken it out to enjoy the adventures in Gonzo journalism which lay within because they’d been using it to press wild flowers instead. I knew this as, with my Sherlock Holmes-like skill, I detected evidence remaining within the book’s pages of some sort of large daisy; mostly because it was still wedged in there.

Partridge Smell My Cheese

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The Reading Room 05

Visiting late-night library Wednesday is like an episode of the old children’s cartoon Mr. Benn in that with each visit you spin the wheel of local-characters and that you never know which of them is going to go off.

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The Reading Room 04

I was doing late-night Wednesday at the library and it was quiet and surprisingly devoid of characters. This was until the Rubber Band Man arrived to liven things up.  08

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The Reading Room 03

I popped along to my gentlemen’s club, late-night library Wednesday, and the most famous of the regular members was gently sleeping across from me.

So far, so normal.

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The Reading Room 02

As a local writer of no celebrity, and even less fortune, I dine at the finest joints and hang out at the trendiest of scenes. By these I refer to the lowliest possible table in Costa Coffee, right by the toilet door, where no-one ever wants to sit, and of the reading room of the town’s central library, but it was by frequenting these locations that it put me in the sphere of influence of certain local characters.

Library

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The Reading Room 01

The Central Library, right by the bus station, is a large Edwardian building built after the Victorian paper manufacturer Thomas Wrigley bequeathed his sizable art collection to the people of Bury thus requiring somewhere to house it.1 It became an ever-modernising cultural centre containing, alongside the art, a museum, an expansive library, reading rooms, computer rooms, and the town’s historical archives. A treasure which undoubtedly still goes unappreciated by many.

Library

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