Maurice

Thanks to
- more disposable income than ever before,
- the occasional quiet patch at Work, and
- some but not a lot of nudging by a fellow connoisseur of all things cheaper and/or pre-loved,
I too have bowed (more than once, and counting) to the power of Buying Things I Don't Need From People Who Don't Want Them In The Comfort Convenience and Semi-Privacy of My Office.

Fortunately my only vice, thus far, in terms of the ghastly human tendency to hoard, has been books.

The latest addition to my small, eclectic collection, is Eddie F's posthumously published "masterly and touching novel of homosexual love". Highlight to reveal the missing chunk inside the quotation marks: it corresponds with the portion of the backcover blurb that had been black texta-ed out then liquid-papered. Add to this the knowledge that the book's previous owner resides in a remote(?) corner of our State's northwest (I am guessing the bit about "remote", having never been there nor any immediate plans to visit, but heck anywhere to the northwest's gotta be bumpkin/redneck territory right), and I cannot help but speculate on the state of its previous owner's being.