Vague ramblings

List of the Lost

Posted in Life, Personal stuff by Ian Cundell on 31 December, 2015

One of the, I suspect inevitable, consequences of a house move that ended up being quite spectacularly drawn out, is that various bits and pieces went missing. For example, in my book and DVD collection these remain unaccounted for:

  • Day of the Triffids (all other Wyndham present and correct, all shelved together);
    Book 1 of Gene Wolfe’s Book of the New Sun series (2-4 all present and correct and never on the same self as the Wyndhams);
    Veronica Mars season 2 DVD (not shelved with books. I’m sure I saw it at some point);
    The Dambusters by Paul Brickhill (especially annoying since this was the first full length book I ever read);
    Terry Pratchett’s Jonny and the Dead/ Jonny and the Bomb and Only You Can Save Mankind;
    Christopher Priest’s A Dream of Wessex, (complete with curry scent from Morag’s blond moment);
    Christopher Priest’s The Separations (which was last seen by my bed, not shelved at all);
    Caberet DVD
    The Dish DVD

And also, my nice marble effect cheese board (yes, I realise that is neither book nor DVD, but still.)

Thought lost, but found having been spotted and rescued from the general miasma:

  • Margaret Attwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale
    Ursula Le Guin’s Left hand of Darkness (one of the great works of SF)
    Terry Pratchett’s Only You Can Save Mankind

There is no rhyme or reason – they were not shelved in the same places, nor in the same boxes. It seems their wanderings are just a symptom of the way in which the universe likes to fuck with our heads.

Not that it matters. They are materials things that, for the most part, are easily replaced, except perhaps the Dambusters.

Shiela and Tracey and fagBut also lost was Blue, a black ball for fur with an absurdly flabby belly who, when I was in the pit of serious depression was a soft and gentle presence, jealous of anyone who might get my attention. The only comfort on that miserable day was that she had spent the last part of her life in the cat equivalent of a 5-star hotel, being looked after by people who really like cats.

And then there is Sheila, my cousin. Five foot bugger-all of hyper-sentimental Welsh woman who really did not deserve to be taken so young – and hopefully the last reason any of us need to visit Shrewsbury Crem for a very long time. That’s her, daughter in one hand, booze and a fag in the other and she would do the same again, I’m sure.

Years ago a friend drew a line on a piece of paper, put an infinity sign at either end and a tiny mark in the middle. That’s you, she said, pointing at the mark. How long will you be dead?

Given how easily and unaccountably things and people go astray, that seems a reasonable question. So as 2015 buggers off into the sunset, with my boot up its arse, it would be unworthy of the friends we have lost along the way, and to those we know who still have a very tough road ahead, not to wish for a better New Year for everybody. So Happy New Year to all.

Also, I still have two boomerangs.


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