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Wednesday 16th 25-41F, misty and cloudy. A hard white frost. I was up at 4.15 today. 🙄
I have been researching how to rid myself of my 8 square meters of non-fiction books currently residing on six different bookshelves. The Danish Library only accepts donated books in Danish. The sheer weight and volume [?] means posting them anywhere is impossibly uneconomical. We don't have anywhere to hold an informal book sale. Besides, it would take decades to dispose of only a few. Even at pocket money prices. Local charity shops couldn't cope with so many books. Particularly non-fiction "technical" books in English. It would be nice to donate them to an international charity to spread the knowledge they contain.
I have now contacted the antiquarian bookshop in Copenhagen for advice. They have a national network for finding book requests. Failing that, it will be a huge bonfire in the garden. Or multiple, exhausting trips to the recycling yard to fill the waste paper container! What an awful waste! Literally and in every sense of the term!
Another trailer full of junk from the shed has been delivered and duly sorted into the appropriate, recycling containers. I've lost count of the trips I have made so far.
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We have been waiting for 12 days for a simple food parcel ordered from England. It spent two days and a weekend in UK customs. Then another two days in Danish customs. The vendor promised a 2-3 day service for our £23 in postage.
Brexit is working? For whom? The UK banks cast off all their ex-pat customers. After over half a century as a customer in my case. No doubt they pocketed a nice big fat bonus for every loyal customer they dumped to save on Brexit paperwork. Having our bank balance sent from abroad, to clear the UK account, automatically triggered warnings of money laundering. The banks and tax authorities in Denmark sat up and took notice.
How much did the Pro-Brexit "TV slebs" and politicooze make from the Brexit divorce from reality? A corrupt farce by a whole bunch of crooks! But, thank God, The drunken Commons Clown got clowns crowns back on his beer glasses. Loser buys the round!
Partying, while the real owner of the crown[s] sat alone in the cathedral at her husband's state funeral. Though even that image was probably playing to the crowd. Overemphasising her isolation. As the Gravely Blighted, Royal Tourist Show crumbles to dust around her designer jodhpurs.
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