Patrick woz robbed

On a lovely wet and wintry week-end in the Southern Highlands (with the ultimate aim of going to Wollongong to see Sydney FC play Perth Glory on Sunday night), we went to the the Berkelouw Book Barn near Berrima for the first time.

This was after we'd spent a day pottering in little antique shops where I'd swooped on anything that looked like a book or a magazine, even if they were just there to show that some piece of overpriced furniture was a bookshelf and not, um, something else. I thought seriously about whether I wanted each thing or if it could be kept for amusement value or if anyone I knew would be intersted in it. After a day I had three books and a beer coaster.

Now, when we drove up to the Book Barn, knowing that there were three hundred million exciting things inside, we agreed to leave in half an hour because we had a long list of things to do like get to Wollongong and have lunch.

But we left after only 20 minutes becuase it was so overwhelmingly organised, it was like a library. I didn't need to rummage, just think about what I would like to find and then go there. I found myself comparing six different copies of the same book and choosing the second most expensive because I liked the way it sat in my hand and the fact that the staff of the Commonwealth Bank had presented it to Miss Brown in May 1922. In other shops I'd have found one copy on one shelf, bought it then found the nicer one on my next visit and cursed their lack of organisation.

So I ended up with four books I really wanted but didn't really enjoy looking for them. Maybe next time I'll mail order.

Oh I finisehd Desmond Kale. Roger McDonald acknowledges about twenty people for telling him about wool classification, exploring and sheep breeding but there's nary a word for Patrick O'Brian or any other nautical authority. This makes me VERY suspicious.