Oh no

Dolores has been checking our bank statements again.

"Ronald, what are all these books you've ordered?" I don't know why she needs to ask. Beer books, of course. She starts counting. "Eighteen. Eighteen books you've ordered. You have to stop. No more."

It gets worse. Next she starts adding up the cost. "540 euros! We could have gone on holiday with that money!" I try to explain. "I need them for my book. They're research material. And presents for my birthday." No-one else buys me a present. If they did, I wouldn't be forced to treat myself.

Dolores hasn't finished. "We could have had a nice holiday with that 540 euros." Lexie chips in "Daaad, I really wanted to go to London. You and your stupid books" As usual, he's slightly confused, but very belligerent. "We're still going to London next week, don't worry." I try to reassure him. He still gives me a slit-eyed stare.

I don't have a book pile any more. There are two piles now. Just as well Andrew archived some of my magazines. If he hadn't, they'd both be shoulder height. Or I'd have to have four piles. But it's all essential stuff. Another book on malting. You can never have too many books on malting. Maybe one day I'll find a definitive answer to the sprinkling controversy. Maltsters seem to have discussed little else in the 19th century.

"540 euros!" Dolores is still in a state of shock. "Look at it this way, that's only 30 euros a book. Bargain." I don't really expect that to placate her, but it makes me feel better.