Teething problems

My wisdom teeth are making their presence known. I wish they wouldn't, as it's not at all necessary.

But, other, more important issues have arisen lately, namely, being identified as a possible pervert at the local library.

I have been to our local library four times. On each of those occasions I have ventured into the children's section to try to obtain all the Harry Potters, so I can read them in order and in under seven years, as well as reread, as I do most years, Arthur Ransome, Noel Streatfield and L M Montgomery. Yes, I rather like children's books. I never before thought this was much of an issue. But on Sunday I was informed that unless I was accompanied by a child, I was not allowed to be in the children's section. I went very red when I realised why. The librarian kindly said I could stay, but that she would have to hover by me. This made me feel worse - and concerned - I mean, what if I were operating with someone else? I'd distract the librarian and they'd go and chat up the kids with cool talk about Pokemon or whatever it is that the munchkins are into now. The previous times I've been in the children's section the librarian (a different one) has merely asked how I am - although now, of course, I know that they were probably watching me, and whispering into a walky-talky the entire time.
I slunk out of the children's area and stood in front of the crime section for quite some time, waiting for my face to resume its usual pink and whiteness. And then felt very cross. And then I stalked home and ate most of a block of chocolate and Skye and Mike and Kruse all laughed at me.

The day before this was the messy Waitangi Day pub crawl in London. Which we didn't do - instead, eleven of us opted for lunch in the sun, several bottles of wine, a few pints and then a few cans for the walk down to parliament where various people show off their national pride by doing the haka. Except we couldn't see anything. Too many drunk Kiwis loitering about. So Kruse and Mike climbed a tree and confirmed that nothing was happening. So we waited. And waited. And drank some more cans and ran into people we had not seen for a bit and then we got bored and realised we'd run out of beer so we left. And found another bar. And then some Chinese. And then another bar. And then some blurry bits and then I caught the last tube home and then Kruse turned up at 9am, having caught the first tube home the following morning. And engaged in some verbalness with football hoodlums about why he was wearing a skirt. All the Kiwis we'd met had congratulated Kruse on his 'skirt' - football hooligans don't seem to know much about Polynesian daywear.