One of our D of E boys (we have two. They're small and moppetlike and will probably grow up to be Prince Charming) brought me these this afternoon. I was upstairs in the office and they were downstairs, apparently trying to kill themselves through the simple expedient of emptying shelving onto their heads. It's easily done - on Monday, someone gave us 1,000 books to value and sell, and the stockroom's turned into an Indiana Jones set, built entirely out of hardbacks.
Since they seemed happy enough killing each other with books, I just gave a little speech about how if anything in the shelving David'd just emptied looked "sort of old, but good old, not rubbish" (oh, the language of the antiquarian), to bring it upstairs to me, and re-ascended to my office haven - two staircases up, heating on max. Enter Moppet 1, five minutes later, bearing an album full of five hundred times more than the above.
They're beautiful. I am not a philatelist. But I'm very willing to learn...
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