DALSTON LIBRARY of THINGS

The library doors are shut. Behind them, changes are afoot and when we return there will be differences, a Library of Things... which lead to thoughts on books, specifically books people read in childhood...
Last week some of our writers rose to a quick flash challenge. Each were assigned an object from the Argos catalogue at random and wrote for three minutes. Below are their stories - all written live!

Leaves Begone!

I am incredibly steely;
not very attractive
but
I can get the job done

I can be quite noisy
once you get me going
but I've got all the puff I need
to go the distance

Once we're done

I'll have had everything cleared

up in no time

– I take no prisoners

Jump on and take a ride

You'll see exactly what I mean

Digital Display Alarm Clock

Scratch!  Scratch! Scratch! The little delicate arm with a dainty golden metal hand and the perfectly red cherry varnished nails automatically and unusually screeches with a scratchy annoying sound. It's as if reaching out to scratch you out of your slumber dreams. The colourful Picasso painted bell  trembles, as it is being scratched seductively by the hand. Yes, the bell is expertly  soldered on to the top of the perfectly painted round face. It timidly but persistently scratch, scratch and scratch, as if it wants to reward you with some magic when you wake up. It will not stop until it does the job. It will even sing soothingly, to some annoyingly, but definitely as the background music.“My dear, my owner, my possessor!  Its time to put a stop to my scratch and look at my beautiful face, instead. It is filled with the flowing meandering river, closely protected by the luscious willow trees. All skilfully hand painted by Picasso’s student.  So this gorgeous golden embedded clock will welcome you to the day’s adventure and will ensure that you wake up in time for your daily mission.” Scratch!  Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! How can you resist IT?

The Ninja Blender

Silent, fast, stealth. Everything you need to slice through the appropriate ingredients to enhance your life and well -being.
Cha, cha, cha!
Banana gone, custard ready!
There it stands in the corner of your kitchen a prepping soldier ready for action. Unnoticed yet observing your every need.
Shiny, glinting chrome with blades resting at night and attentive when required. Be careful thought, fingers must be made aware of potential dissection.
At only £69.99 you won’t regret buying this extreme domestic warrior that is equipped to fight for your digestive system the only way it knows.

, Cha, Cha!

Noise-cancelling headphones

We all love hearing things - that's a given. But hearing things directed at you personally? Maybe not always so welcome. With these special noise-cancelling headphones you will hear everything except what's intended for your ears. No more chores... No more homework... No more responsibility! Please don't telephone for this offer as we won't hear your call.

Snow Globe

Any time you choose, you can enter a miniature magical world in the comfort of your own home. The merest of shakes and even on a hot summer’s day, the snow will fall like twinkling stars, speckling roofs and treetops with flakes of glitter. A snow globe will lift your spirits and transport you into another time and place full of beauty and enchantment.

Twisted Heart Pendant

It is made of ancient Sir Dorthrita Ketherson.
It is a limited addition to the Lancaster Collection.
The twist in its winding piece is filled with love, harmony and the peace that you
would give to a warring neighbour.
It is a rare silver collection, and can only be purchased at our store.
Our collector Mrs. Busby comments: “it is a remains a rare piece amongst rare
pieces. A must get”.
It is important piece that they would make anyone happy.
It would also bring good luck to allow who wear it.
It is only £49.00 reduced from £250.00 for this bank holiday weekend only.
Ask Martin if you any enquires.

Letters from Kingsland

Enjoy a Friday slice of Hackney life courtesy of our writing community.

Dear Mum,

I know you worry about me and you really shouldn’t. I know I make some terrible decisions and that’s ok. If no one made terrible decisions then they would never learn from their mistakes. We all make mistakes, but I’m very happy here and like you said I don’t think about the future. I know you say that in a bad way but I think it’s a very good thing to just live for the day. It’s not as confusing as constantly having to think about tomorrow and next week and the rest of your life, it’s simply do I want a flat white or a chai latte? I’ll give you an example right, this happened a few weeks ago .I couldn’t help but notice her, trapped somewhere between 80 and 90 years old  I’d say, with hair a soft meringue of white curls and her diminutive body wrapped in a thick brown wool coat, actually incongruous on such a stifling hot day. She hobbled by, half her body weight supported by this indispensable wheeled cart thing and the other by a walking stick. Her mouth was pulled across to one side so she took on the appearance of a Mrs Potato head toy during its most experimental phase. I couldn’t help watching her. She had this sloping face that screwed itself into a walnut of frustration and her words dribbled out much to the irritation of the shop assistant where she’d wandered. She was in a shop now in the shopping centre in Dalston and I was just stood there watching because she was so fascinating.

A what? He asked, frowning.

An oover, I want a little oover to do me stairs with.

A Hoover? He repeated, quite patronising actually.

Yeah, an oover to do my stairs, a little one, for me stairs.

We don’t sell Hoovers, he replied rather haughtily despite wearing a badge clearly empowering him as Houseware Manager whatever that is.

A little oover, the old lady persisted, for me stairs.

No, sorry, not here, you’ll need to try somewhere else.

His response so perplexed the poor old girl, any passer-by could almost see her soul banging the roof of its own body demanding a quick release to the spirit world. I was captivated.

Where, she managed, where can I get me self a little oover thingy?

Argos, I suggested.

They both turned to me, he with the reflexes of a cat, her taking what seemed almost an entire minute just to face me.

Argos?

Yes, Argos, said the manager, relieved to have been of some use.

With that he fairly skipped across the shop floor and scurried away through a door in garden furniture.

Where?

Her lopsided face searched mine for some answers.

I gave her directions with the deliberation of someone talking to a three year old. Then repeated them again very slowly and off she trotted.

I went to the supermarket and about an hour later I passed her in the arcade, pushing her wheeled cart thingy and she looked very close to tears. She was no nearer to Argos than before but I didn’t have time to take her there personally, in fact I feared if I slowed my pace and stepped in time with her, I might never quicken it again.

She stopped a young mum gripping a pushchair who was talking nonstop into her phone.

A little 'oover, for me stairs, where could I get one?

But the young mum stayed glued to her phone and shook her head as if to say, get away freak!

But I got to do me stairs. 

The old woman sighed shrugged her bony shoulders and wandered out onto the street.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even looking for her. Then one day I saw her. She was coming out the front door of her ground floor council flat, she wore a straw bonnet on her head and dragged her trusty wheeled cart behind her, I wondered if the stairs she longed to clean belonged to a different house in a different time and whether she’d ever live long enough to find them again.
So you see Mum, I am quite content living in the present.
Much love,  your Dizzy Girl.

A Lockdown short story

Hello,

As we celebrate the amended bank holiday timetable this week, please enjoy a lockdown-inspired tale from one of our writers.

Lockdown Love by Yvonne Lloyd

Conducting an extra-marital affair is complicated at the best of times. Stir lockdown into the mix and you have a logistical conundrum on your hands.
However, inconvenient it certainly was, for James the lockdown added frisson, a pinch of spice to his affair with Lottie which, to be honest had dulled into a version of the marriages they were both escaping from. It was exactly what was required to restore a titillating edge of thrilling excitement to their illicit encounters. So while doctors and nurses battled on the frontline to save lives, James was single-mindedly focused on planning an escape from social isolation and physical distancing. Under the circumstances though, meetings involved the meticulous plotting the invasion of a neighbouring state might require.
Stella, James’ wife prided herself on being super fit, fancying that at 53, she had the body of a 30year old. For years, she’d been encouraging her spouse to exercise to slow the spread of his middle-aged midriff. At home, Stella kept a close eye on his diet and alcohol consumption but he clearly over-compensated for these rations when he was working away.
Wilfully James had ignored all pleas to join a gym calling those who ran miles on treadmills and got nowhere freaks of nature. So, on Easter Saturday, Stella was perplexed when James wearing trainers, jogging pants and baseball cap announced he was going for a run as if this was a normal part of his daily routine. Not for one second did Stella suspect her husband’s outfit might be camouflage for his marital indiscretions.
   ‘May as well get fit while in this bloody lockdown,’ he mumbled, his paunch halfway out of the front door, his casual tone belying excitement at his clandestine meeting with Lottie.
Their rendezvous was to take place a mile away – as a concession to government directives, James nobly decided not to drive. He had of course no intention of jogging – even walking provoked palpitations and generous quantities of sticky perspiration all of which confirmed he’d be well advised to steer clear of any further physical exertion.
For Lottie and her husband Kurt the lockdown had unexpectedly rekindled a spark in their inert marriage which was now aflame with red hot passion. When James, gasping for breath arrived at the appointed spot, his face the colour of a good Beaujolais. Lottie, wearing a fuchsia tracksuit was already there, looking as crisp as a chilled glass of Sauvignon blanc.
On seeing James, her heart did not flutter, her spine didn’t tingle, her knees didn’t weaken. When she was certain James wasn’t about to collapse with a stroke, she pointed her elbow at him for a lockdown hug.
Uncomprehending, he lurched towards her flinging sweaty arms around the body he hadn’t had the pleasure of exploring for weeks. As she struggled to extricate herself, Lottie had the uncomfortable sensation of being superglued to her lover, who frankly looked and smelt anything but sexy and from whose copious amounts of sweat droplets, she was concerned she might catch the virus. Yes, she liked James but dying for him, like some kind of romantic heroine was definitely not in her plans.
As a hotel room was out of the question, James suggested a quick foray into some nearby shrubs. Pretending to entertain seriously the preposterous suggestion that they cavort in the bushes like a pair of desperate teenagers Lottie said,
  ‘Darling this might be a good time to put our little liaison on hold’
When James pantingly protested, she continued ‘I’d hate to think I’d infected you’.
Privately, she thought it would be on hold well beyond the lockdown but wisely kept this to herself, nervous the still pale puce James might react with a heart attack.
And that, to Stella’s great disappointment was the last she ever saw of James’ running expeditions.

May Day! May Day! New reading material alert

Hello,

As a bank holiday weekend treat please enjoy new short fiction from our writers Julie and Agrippa - the perfect length for a tea break!

Can I help you? by Julie Balloo

The day began as normal, Lulu went shopping in her lunch hour as she liked to do -

gliding through the busy stores as though she was in another dimension.

All the time she spoke, droning on and on to her invisible friend; oblivious to all around her.

Occasionally she'd sidestep other shoppers or when she misjudged the distance and bumped into them, she'd tut mid word and move away, never acknowledging or apologising. When Lulu was not checking her numerous social media apps or making jaunty Tik Tok filmlets and instagramming every morsel she ate, she chatted consistently to her many friends. They would notify her over WhatsApp that they were free to talk and she'd call them or vice versa. This is Lulu's life and she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Now way, no... you tell him he cannot do that, do you hear, no way!" She wittered on, "Where shall we go? Nah heard its rubbish. What? No...no...no way. Did he?"

She edged her way through the crowd and joined the snaking queue.

Heather heard her before she saw her... the constant chatter interrupting the monotony of the on store radio music. Heather was used to the customers ignoring her: entering into and finishing entire transactions with not so much as the briefest of eye contact. But Heather wasn't in the mood today, she'd had a row with her mother and a headache was looming.

The chatty woman plonked her desired wares on the counter while simultaneously organising her weekend social life. Not once did she look at Heather, she didn’t smile or say thank you or even ask her how she was? 

Heather scanned her goods whilst maintaining a scornful look and as a gesture of impishness placed the newly purchased scant lingerie  inside the designer handbag, she then put the bag into a plastic shop carrier and charged an extra 5p.

She handed over her credit card taking no notice of the price and carried on conversing.
"What? No..no can do...she did what? I don’t believe it!"

She then took the brand new handbag out of the carrier, dropped the carrier to the floor and walked out of the shop, still chatting on her phone. She stopped talking only when she passed through the security gates at the door, but only after a man in a uniform grabbed her by the arm that is.

"What? I’ll call you back, what are you doing?"

When the guard asked if she’d bought anything, she rolled her eyes and sighed but her expression changed when challenged further.
You see sometimes Heather has trouble concentrating, sometimes she forgets the little things, little things like removing security tags from shop bought items or making sure customers always have their receipts, or even completing transactions properly. When  Lulu insisted she’d definitely paid for the bag stuffed with lingerie, which was not the stores packing policy, the guard marched her back to the till, where Heather was questioned.
"No sorry, Mike, I don’t remember serving her, no not at all."

And with no proof of payment  Lulu was  held up longer than expected and her day was ruined, politeness costs nothing Heather always says and she ‘s right. 

Tragedy at the High Road Call Box by Agrippa Goredema

Hello Sweetheart, your Sweetheart Craggy Face here.Of course I’m calling from a call box - where else?…Do you miss me?...How much…?

Hmm, that sort of flattery will get you anywhere, and that’s the truth, Honey…

Guess what, the Shadow’s back to tracking me…He’s got his back to me right now, Has been lurking with brazenness out there on the pavement…Hmm, as if I care!

You know, the shadowy figure in the Columbo top coat and black hat who I told you about yesterday morning!

He MUST be following I’m not being paranoid I’m telling you, Angelina!...Well, the wig on me has failed dismally  as a proper disguise, even though it almost covers my long ears…

Ha ha ha, glad I’ve made you laugh at last…It’s bloody annoying, though, being followed ‘round town  like a fugitive…But wait! he’s crossing to the other side and’s  now stock still, watching me…

Phwar! What a dumb Columbo!...makes no attempt to mask his hostile pursuits?!

Now please stop sobbing it upsets me seeing we’re so far apart to comfort one another!…

Pipe down, Angelina! It’s not as sinister as it looks I can handle it you know I can…

…What was what sound, Angelina?...Jingling?...Oh, it’s the keys and some dimes – and something else whose sound you’ll  soon hear loud and clear before everything is finally resolved…

Yes, right now I have my trusty right hand in my bottom right jacket pocket the same way HRH the Prince of Wales always has his own right hand

in his pocket as he goes about his Right Royal duties…You must have seen those pictures in the papers, Dearest Angelina!...What else am I doing?...

Ha ha ha!...Leaning against the call box with my left hand that’s also holding the receiver as I talk to you, that’s what…I think I look quite dashing today, Sweetheart…in my dark suit, white shirt, tie, and polished shoes.

You have never seen me dressed like this and sadly never will all because of imminent things to come…Hey, across the road the Shadow has just put away a notebook he was consulting and scribbling into, and has been joined by some lady clad in a vintage white mantle…They have embraced – most tenderly  – what familiarity there is between them, Angelina!…You’ve gone quiet, you still there, Sweetheart?...Very good, then!...Now they’re crossing the road, gingerly weaving through the slow traffic...Can you hear their approaching footsteps, please Angelina?...Stop sobbing like that  it’s making my right hand unsteady!...Yes, the two clowns have drawn their cuffs but so have I – not damn cuffs but something much more deadly from my right hand pocket-  and now just LISTEN to this, Sweetheart -


(Angelina writes: “Then K’pow, K’pow, K’pow! Three shots rang out. Craggy Face blasted the Columbo pair before self-immolating. Primarily, this had been meant to be a ‘laugh’ to be filmed for uploading onto YouTube. None of us imagined that’s the way my Sweetheart wanted to go. And I’d written, filmed and directed everything. RIP, Craggy Face”).