I am not a genius author

And, as many of my posts can prove, I’m no insightful writer, or awesome, world-shaking thinker. I know my level, and it’s kinda low 🙂

But I do write this blog, and it is all the product of my own, random mind. I don’t blog on legalish/bookish/techiesh stuff anywhere else, and I’ve never done a guest blog post elsewhere either: anything I write as “Jennie Law” is here, and only here. It may not be of any great intellectual value, I get no financial benefit from it, but it is mine, all mine.
So when I found that someone had come to my blog recently via a link on another site, to an old post from 2008 about ebooks, I wondered why they were looking at such old stuff, and who was referring to it.
I followed the link back, and I found that the entirety of the 2008 post on ebooks is available on the site where the visitor originated from, with a link at the bottom to my blog post. The company is SGD Networks, which appears to be based in India, and has nothing to do with libraries, or law, but a lot to do with web development, graphic design, and web hosting. There was no sign that I was the author of that post other than the link: it had just been copied and pasted onto this site. Along with, it would appear, lots of other articles from various sources, all from 2008 as well.
Now, my memory may not be razor sharp, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I’d been asked for permission for my work to be used elsewhere. And I wasn’t.
My blog is not under a Creative Commons license, so I certainly haven’t given freedom to reuse the content I create – it is up to me to decide where that content may appear.
So, I’ve sent a polite “you did not ask for permission to use my content, please remove it immediately” email today. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

It’s a long story…

…you know, where I’ve been since I last posted about going to Australia.

Well….
Would you believe me if I told you that I’d somehow ended up wandering in the port in the early hours of the morning, and accidentally stumbled into a shipping container, which somehow locked itself behind me? *
And that after hours of banging on the walls and shouting to no avail, I fell into an exhausted asleep, only to be woken up when I felt the container swaying gently around, before being jolted across the floor when it thumped down suddenly?
Soon after that, I heard the ringing and clanging bangs of other containers being placed around and above mine, trapping me in the centre of a pile of huge metal boxes. I was enclosed in a container-made cage, on what I had to assume was a ship, bound for an unknown destination with its registered cargo. Plus the addition of an unauthorised, accidental stowaway.
With no way out of the metal box, I just had to resign myself to settling in and waiting, hoping that somebody would eventually find me. Luckily for me, I’d fallen into a container well supplied with Irn Bru and Monster Munch, so I managed to sustain my strength through the long sea journey. In the darkness of the container I soon lost track of time, although luckily the dynamo torch on my keyring allowed me the luxury of illumination when I needed it. Such as when I had to choose between Roast Beef, or Pickled Onion Monster Munch. The Flaming Hot Monster Munch I used to create a mattress – it’s the only thing they were fit for, I certainly wasn’t in a dire enough situation at that point to be forced to actually eat them.
You will have gathered that eventually, of course, the ship arrived at its final stop, thankfully here in the UK. As the containers were unloaded, gradually my temporary home, with its nest of empty crisp packets and cans was unveiled. I was helped out of there by shocked dock staff, and have been slowly recuperating since: it appears that a diet comprising only Monster Munch and Irn Bru has some deficiencies in certain areas. I believe this may explain why I am still so very pale, and the light still hurts my eyes. Although I wonder if that might have something to do with the little bat that we found I was sharing my container with – the dock workers found its body crushed under a dislodged pallet of Irn Bru cans. And for some reason, I do seem to be developing a strange, strong hankering for…blood?
*This may be an entirely fictional account of the last 6 weeks. Or it may be entirely true. The choice…is yours.

Low level panic

I may be having a minor wobble.

I leave on Thursday for the ALLA / NZLLA conference in Melbourne.

My suitcase is at my parents – we’ll not even get into the massive size of the thing, which I have been informed by my Mum that I have to take, due to the fact that I’ve to take clothes and gifts for my brother and his girlfriend. They live in New Zealand, and are meeting me in Melbourne for a city break holiday. Oh, and also, clothes for my brothers best friend, who is also currently in New Zealand. And wine gums for another friend of mine.
Now, since they’re just coming on a short break, they might not be prepared for the fact that they’re expected to transport crisps, sweeties, and clothing back home…can you see the flaw in this plan? Can you visualise the piles of random stuff, abandoned in a hotel room due to lack of suitcase space? Can you hear me whimpering as I try and co-ordinate with them, my Mum, the friends Mum, and the girlfriends Mum?
So, before I can even consider packing, I have to figure out what else is going in the case. Other than my mind.
Therefore, tonight, I will be mainly:
  • Throwing clothes in a big blue IKEA bag, in advance of tomorrow being able to throw it in the car, go to my parents, step back, and letting my Aunt, Queen of Packing, do her work.
  • Stuffing hand baggage with important things like crossword puzzle books, pens, MP3 player, books etc.
  • Making sure I have all the conference and accommodation information printed out, and important things like passport, visitor e-visa, travel insurance.
  • Checking I don’t have anything sharp: tweezers/cuticle scissors/nail clippers = BAD, although somehow badges which have a long spike on metal on the back = GOOD. Consistency? Nah!
  • Praying I don’t end up sat next to the big/smelly/chatty/crying baby/snoring person on the plane.
  • Checking my shopping list of presents I have to bring back.
  • Wondering at exactly how exhausted I’ll be arriving at 1am on Saturday, after the 20+ flight time, with whatever random stopover time on top.
  • Calculating exactly how many times I’ll have to be patted down at airport security after randomly setting off the metal detectors (Dubai’s quite fun – ladies get to go in a mini room, so the men can’t see you being patted).
Top tip: never try and combine a conference on the other side of the world with a mini break to meet up with family. It really is quite traumatic!

How to make a librarian happy

First, start with a standard handbook for solicitors, available in many varieties, but for this example, make it a Company Law one.

Give it many, many, paper-thin pages, in order to fit the masses of information into it without it becoming large enough to risk it becoming sentient.Then give it a floppy cover: this ensures that, not only is it impossible to make it stand on a shelf itself, but its floppiness is also contagious, and it’ll merrily take out neighbouring books during its slide to the ground.

Evidence: an action shot, taken when I tried to get the book to stand upright for a second while I took a photo. And its normal position/look, when placed on a shelf and left to its own devices.
So: with those ingredients, you have created a book that annoys the librarian (as when it’s on the shelf it’s like a limp eel, and a Bad Influence on the other books), and the solicitors (who can’t store them standing upright like the other books on their desk, so they have to lie flat / get buried under paperwork / annoy them when they can’t find them due to the burying).
To make the librarian happy again, you need to do one simple thing: provide stiffer covers. Then the books can do amazing things, see?

I left them alone, unsupervised, for FIVE WHOLE MINUTES, and came back and they were still upright like that, yay!
Yes, it’s the small things that make us happy…thank you Butterworths, for rescuing my shelves from the Attack of El Collapso.
P.S. The solicitors like them too: drawing most comments so far is the attractive dot design.