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By Helvi Oosterman.
I’m standing in front of our floor to ceiling book cases and I don’t know where to start my weeding; we are moving to a smaller place and I have to select which books to take and which not. I have three milk crates on the table: one for daughter, one for charity and one for the cottage. The ones I want to keep can stay until we actually move.
I take books out at random. ‘The End of Certainty’ by Paul Kelly is the first one. It was a birthday present from Allan, who passed away far too young at fifty. His beautiful hand writing makes me choke at the loss of a dear friend and I want to keep the book. ‘In the box’, says the boss who hasn’t even read it. The next one happens to be a slim volume by Marguerite Duras, a French writer who used live in Vietnam when it was still Indo-China. I start reading ‘Practicalities’; beautiful short essays about life, love, writing, Paris and wasting time. I feel I’m not wasting a minute re-reading this and not sticking to the task at hand: I have to keep this one; it’s only a slip of a book.
On the bottom shelf, out of sight are my yearly diet books; I have bought one every January, new year, new me. Easy goodbyes to all; from Atkins to Scarsdale to South Beach. I count only seven; many of them have already left the house to end up fattening girl friends’ book shelves. Then I pick a stack of yellowed old Penguins, Mishima, Kawabata, Hermann Hesse and Böll, which have escaped the previous throw-out. They are like very old friends now; I put them back on the shelf.
I’m not doing too well, and I decide to take a break and walk to check the cottage collection. I find that most of them are results of previous culls, books that I had not chosen myself. Even so I managed to bring back an armful: a book on Finnish art, a long lost one of V.S. Naipaul and ‘By Way of Sainte-Beuve’ by Marcel Proust.
I have spent some hours by now and not much to show for; maybe the best thing to do is to tackle one shelf daily until the job is done. We have time; we haven’t even put the house on the market yet. Husband walks by and looks at the empty boxes, he can see that I’m getting a headache and am close to tears: Maybe I can help tomorrow? This is not what I want; he’ll only leave his Patrick Whites and some boring stories about Aussies migrating to Paraguay and maybe George Perec’ s ‘Life, the User’s Manual’. ‘You can help with the cook books and the gardening ones’, I say as I have already promised to give them to family members; I have enough recipes in my head by now and my new garden will be very small.
Oh no, I have totally forgotten about dictionaries and other language and reference books in the office and all my favorites in the bed room!
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Yahoo, I am now free of that damned weed in my lawn. My hands are cut to shreds, when the pliers refused the battle with the weeds, I foolishly attacked them with bare hands, Glenda where are you????? Why did not humans evolve with a hinge down the spine, my shoulders ache, my arms feel like they are draping along the ground. My preferential treatment wants are a deep tissue massage, pedicure, manicure, a facial will relax my jaws -from all the straining and gritting of teeth, my legs will need waxing once the blood dries up. But I am happy folks. A few years ago at the Melbourne Garden Expo, at Burnley if I remember, a couple of enterprising Qlders took this sensitive weed to the garden expo and sold them off as novelty plants. Officials soon closed them down, but not before they had sold off a few hundred of them to the gullible. I did request a few volunteers to help me, but a mention of sensitive weed and they all developed migraines, gastric upsets, swine flu etc. I am green ant free Thank Zeus, a largish ant that will congregate swiftly and silently all over your clothing, then a signal known and heard only by them will attack and bite like crazy. People under attack are easily recognized by hollering and shouting and the tearing off of clothing. So much for fun in the tropics…..yes we have that haze up here now.
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The duststorm wasn’t as bad here as it was in Sydney. Still I’m cursing it as I now have to clean the windows and hose my plants to get rid of the red dust. Gez had a hard time cleaning the pool, and if he’s got some time left , he’s got to keep spraying the little baby tussocks that keep popping up…they are those nasty weeds that somehow ended up here from South America.
Not even the alpacas will eat them, even they also come from South America….
Where indeed is Glenda-Maddie when you need her most.
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oops, gez again…I have to be more vigilant…
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Well before moving house I requested Little Puddle to connect the new house to broadband, yes it will be done in 3 days (service guarantee), three weeks later, still no broadband. I did request very politely (for me) and informed Little Puddle that I was not moving to a 3rd world country, the connections were already in place in the new house. Three more weeks and bingo! I am wired up. My fingers are used to cleaning ovens and things that are stationary, this typing with fingers without any fingerprints left is hard work now. A few weeks ago my very pregnant daughter-in-law, grand-daughter, very pregnant daughter were all tested for swine flu. It took one week for the tests to come through, negative-thank Zeus. But it was very worrying for all of us, I think that if I undertook a sanity test it would have come back negative. I can take out my frustrations at night with a few practice swings at the cane toads that invade the backyard at night, put on the security lights and they freeze, my swings are really awesome now, I may take up golf, but then that is a game that spoils a good walk, so I am told. My house is just what Gerard despises, little boxes, little boxes, little boxes made of ticky tack, Little boxes, little boxes all the same……complete with security screens, security doors and a remote control garage door. I have a feeling that the insurance industry is behind the need to have garages fully enclosed these days, after cyclone Larry cleaned up a lot of garage doors. I feel very safe and secure all the time now. The air conditioning man told me that the not-working air-conditioner needs a new compressor, must still be under warranty. Got in touch with real estate person, only to be told the previous owners have left the country….there goes the warranty. The bank account is starting to look really sick now…..no I do not want or need a credit card thankyou Mr Bank Manager.
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granny, I found that puddle particularly murky so I really hope you don’t get the same experience. Remember though, the golden rule. When you want to ask them something -and I sincerely hope you never ever have to- and you get on the blower to them, the moment the machines begins to rattle off the excruciating spiel, utter the word, “consultant.” The first time it took me straight to a mortal with some sense but the second time (go figure) the machinated man said, “Yes, I’ll connect you to a consultant but first let me ask you a couple of questions…” luckily, this time there were only two very simple questions which I’ve answered through the firm barrier of my teeth! Never forget that magic word, granny!
And it’s a huuuuuuuge puddle and they dump you right in the middle of it! Not a duck or a Helvi swan to be seen anywhere!
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Granny,
Don’t take my comments about little boxes and ticky tacky this and that too teriously. Our property is now on Real For Sale Dot Com and tacky Oosy’s will eventually cut down into size and move into a quarter of space.
I am practising taking shorter steps and cutting my sausages into smaller sections placed onto smaller plates, in direct contrasts to taking larger quaffs of plonk. It is the only way now!
We will move into a ‘villa home’ at Bowral, a hotbed of red jumpers and How”’ freaks. (Careful Waz) I’ll have to temper (or hone) my sneer and filleting skills.
Today Helvi and I both emptied filing and other cabinets of the detrius of so much past. Old tax returns and many mother letters, ( when will you be coming over to Holland again, Gerard?) All those guarantees for pumps and breadmakers, even a tomato dehydrator and electric chirozo slicer.
The ‘villa’ is 2 under one roof and in a row of 8 altogether. We have driven past a number of times and all has been quiet so far. No sign of hoons and the couple next door, under the same roof, looked sedate enough and it seemed both are walkers wearing runners. Always a reasonable sign, don’t you think.
We will start storing things in boxes and will use the town house garage to store them in, together with all those chairs that we took with us from Holland back in 1976. I even found my old stamp-album. The one that was given to me in 1949 when I still believed in St Nicholas each year on the 5th of Dec. It has pages that you can screw in and some old stamps under which I had written the value of each stamp at the time and then the total value of each page. A materialist in the making!
Please, Pigs, be gentle with us. This is going to be a challenge that might tax our conjugals or maritals to the very end for us.
Time for anothet shirat.
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Atomou, as a kid I lived in Essendon so I am very familiar with Puckle Street, when tv came to Australia for the Olympics, families would sit outside an electical shop and watch tv from the footpath, no sound, just pictures. From memory I think the shop was Muirs, fold up chairs were the go, I laugh now when I think about it. We would go to the footy at Windy Hill for free, our curate had contacts at EFC and would hand out the tickets on a Friday afternoon for the Saturday game. Those days a lot of the footballers lived not very far from our house, there was a park over the road from our house, and now and again the players would come over for a kick of the footy, I was in heaven. I can state proudly that Ron Evans and Ken Fraser taught me how to kick a football properly, I eventually put my brothers to shame with the distance I could kick. There were not many girls of my age around the place then, I always got picked to play because of my extraordinary prowess with the footy. I was one of the boys. Still a Bomber supporter!!!!!!
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Oh, granny!
Maaaate!
Muirs is right. Guess who was my first ever dentist? Not an essendon player but A North Melbourne one: Allen Aylett! Had his shop somewhere in Moonee Ponds, I think. Can’t remember exactly where now. We used to live in Primrose Street where the notorious Carl Williams’ mother, Barbara lived and found dead just recently. When I saw the pictures on the Telly, my heart sank!
Watching the telly from the outside! Them were the days!
When we first came to Oz a pprominent Greek white goods store in the city used to run a radio program in Greek. During it, one night they ran a quizz. The person who knew the answer and was first to ring would winn a TV. They thought that the question would be so obscure that no one would know the answer. Guess who did? I can’t remember the question now but I remember the answer: Emannuel Kant. It just so happened that I had been reading the encyclopedia at school just a few days earlier, so I picked up the phone. We lived with uncles, aunts and cousins back then. They all thought I was mad. When the announcer said my name, they were all convinced. Only a madman would know the answe to that question! The upshot was that the Owner of the prominent greek shop said that we had misheard and that he had only promised a small, meaningless discount in the price -which was a shocking, blatant lie.
We couldn’t afford the Telly and so we went back home empty handed. Never trust a greek bearing gifts, as the Romans said!
I used to follow Essendon -though I was never a real sports person- until my sister met with her future husband, who took me to one side and said to me, more or less, “mate, if you want me to marry your sister, you better stop this Essendon crap and become a Hawk.” So, I became a notional Hawk.
Thanks for the memories, granny.
I think my head is clearing up a bit now…
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Granny must have cured you, ato. I laughed out loud reading your story about the mean Greek shop-keeper.
After laughing I felt quite sad; how horrid of him not to keep his promise and upset a clever little boy you were then…(looking at your photo, you are still crying)
Anyhow, your prarents must have been happy that you kept reading and not had a chance to watch TV . Or maybe you and granny were secrectly watching it , sitting at those fold-up chairs in front of the Muirs’ shop window…
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I think you’re right about granny curing me, H. I feel a whole lot better, though I just read over my tale and saw so many typos I felt ill again! My fingers are constantly missing the mark. I went over to the piano and checked them out on that keyboard. Yeap, they’re everywhere but where I want them to be! I think I might need some more chamomile.
I doubt I’d be older than 14 at the time, H. My father, who had served in WWII under ruthless conditions was generally a very calm man but I still remember him seeing my disappointed face and the sneer of disgust he gave to that shop owner. I thought, oops, pappy is gonna beef him one. But, being a priest’s son, (also a very placid priest) pappy patted me on the shoulder and we walked out. Exhibition Street, Melbourne. It don’t exist any more but I remember the occasion every time I go to the city!
Bloody Emannuel Kant!
If you get your hands on the book “Slumdog Millionnaire” H, read it! I totally related to that kid. The role that coincidence can play in our lives! In more important things, we call it Fate, Destiny, Stars, etc but it’s just that: coincidence. It’s just so happened that I was reading about Kant a few days earlier.
I couldn’t go past the first five minutes of the movie, though!
I think one should either read the book OR see the movie but not both. Probably true for all books and movies.
Hardly any shows worth watching back those days, H. TV had only just arrived in Oz. I remember the Disney Hour and Johnny O’Keefe… that’s about all. The Olympics were held a couple of years before we got here.
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…I’m suffering of the same syndrome as you ato; I noticed that talk about PRARENTS…maybe I mean parents?
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Nice to hear from you, Granny; only the other day I commented to G that I haven’t seen you on the Unleashed lately.
Good that your housing ordeals are over, mine are just starting.
I have been culling some obvious stuff, things you only need on the farm; the costlier farm equipment of course has to be left to be sold at one of those on the farm sales. Kids have also left some of their posessions here and I have been hassling them to come and take it all away or to the tip they go…
I was looking for my ‘good’ watch this morning; turned the drawers upside down and ended throwing two garbage bags of junk out; still found the watch too.
Moving to a smaller place makes it difficult because now I’m not sure how our furniture will look cramped together. My solution to this problem is to take it all with us and make it wait for in the garage to be selected or not.
The books are the hardest to depart with; Gerard came with a helpful idea: leave some of the least favourite in the Cottage…
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Sorry about that Granny, it’s H not G…he must have been logged on my computer
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Helvi, best of luck with your move, I have just come out of a traumatic 12 months of living with obnoxious neighbours, actually a single Mum with five kids, each with a different father. Twelve months of Mum screaming, swearing at the kids, and the kids screaming back at her, calling her a “fat slut”. She would go out at night after the kids were in bed, the youngest, a baby aged 8 months or so, come home with a carload of new found friends, party on at home till 6am. Screaming started at 7am, when the kids would awaken, off to school, then the drinking would start. Police had been called on numerous occasions when the latest live-in took to beating her. Child welfare agency had called on numerous occasions to check on the kids welfare. Finally I had enough and put my house on the market, and started my search for a new house. At long last I found a lovely house within my price range, the agent said the house was on the market because of the collapse of a financial company. I decided before signing any contract to do a drive by at different times of the day and evening, very quiet and peaceful. I found a buyer for my house, young couple with kids, maybe they won’t be as sensitive as I was to the distraction next door. Moving day, I dreaded it, into my new home, boxes everywhere, dirt and dust from the removalists blankets. Beds assembled and made, head into the kitchen – check out the oven – a fancy European model, cannot get oven to work. Monday, called in electrician, a few power points did not seem to work, that is all they were – power points NOT connected to any wiring whatsoever, just there for looks maybe. Oven checked by electrician, there is an isolator switch for oven. I decided to fire up the Fancy European Oven, thick clouds of smoke filled the kitchen and surrounds. The FEO had a one inch thick grease build-up, took to cleaning oven, 3 days later, all fingerprints by now worn off, oven is fit to cook with. Air conditioners not working, all batteries on the remotes were removed, plus there are also isolator switches for them as well (exterior) . TV does not work, faulty antenna point. All this is too much for Granny, a very expensive exercise for me. The garden was a blank canvas, brown, too closely mowed grass, full of sensitive weed (a type of Mimosa, so I am told) – a very prickly customer, the only way to remove it is with a pair of pliers, weed spray does not work, very thorny and hurts like hell. Embedded into the grass were shards of glass, one last attempt at triumph by previous owners to hurt the financial company???? At long last all glass and weeds removed. The bromeliads I rescued from our tip and potted up, now have a home, all 250 of them. I now wake up to the sounds of Kookaburras and Cockatoos screeching in the mornings, the distant sound of roosters and I am at last at peace with my new surroundings. My hammock beckons to me in the corner of the patio, I grab a book, a cool refreshing drink, settle in for some serious reading, before long I am sound asleep. I deliberately did not cull before the move, instead I decided what does not fit will be donated to charity. I cannot part with any of my books, so I won’t, I just need another bookshelf to accommodate them, whenever I go to the markets, I always end up with bringing home another pile of books. Sorry this has taken so long, Helvi, one always regrets some of the culling one does in haste. I would not know where to start for one thing.
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I read this in the book that I saved:
‘They (women) don’t realize that disorder, or in other words the accumulation of posessions, can only be dealt with in a way that’s extremely painful. Namely by parting with them.
I’ve thrown things away, and regretted it. Sooner or later you always regret having thrown things away at some time or other. But if you don’t part with anything, if you try to hold back time, you can spend your whole life tidying life up and documenting it.’
Marguerite Duras “Practicalities”
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By the way.
Has anyone seen me on ‘The Unleashed’ flogging a very obstinate but dead Paraguayn horse?
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Yep.
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H, there are many heart-wrenching situations in life but book culling must certainly rate as one of the worse!
When we shifted to this house, a far smaller one than the previous sitting on a quarte acre block, it was obvious that the books could not follow us. I was almost in tears! I wanted to keep even the essays I had written back at uni (the hand writing was so good, the references so… academic! And I also wanted to keep some of my students’ essays! Silly boy!
My heart was running over with despair. Mrs At. knew and appreciated the importance of those books. Precious and rare Lit. Crits on all the ancients, on History, on Art, on Politics all sorts of things. The most important political commentaries (“The Death of Certainty” was but one of them) Manning Clarke’s 6 luscious vols of Oz History, the Oz Dict of Biography…. The Oxford Dict. (in all its 20 vol glory!) Liddell and Scott’s Ancient Greek-English Dict… Latin dicts. Dicts of most languages.
When we finally put them all in boxes to shift into the new garage before we made the final culling decision, the truck did three trips. Our old house was big and every wall was one big book shelf. Ceilings were high and we had little steps to reach the upper shelves. Literaly thousands and thousands of books, constantly borrowed by my students or our friends.
Then came the time of separating them and calling in the Salvos. Thank goodness I had warned them. A huge, long truck arrived and the two men plus Mrs At, one my daughters and I took over two hours to load the thing up!
Finally, I looked down into the truck’s cavernous maw! Two rows of boxes buttressing each side, floor to ceiling. A feeling of panic stunned me. I hugged my daughter and asked, “How is it that I’ve read all these books and I’m still stupid?”
And this is why one has children. She chuckled, kissed me and said, “you’re not stupid, dad, just a little mad sometimes.” Then she asked the Salvos if they wanted a cuppa, which they declined and went off.
When there’s no space, there is no space! Eventually there’ll be no space for humans, as well…
I’ve kept the dictionaries and some of the other, more important reference works but now, here we are with the same old dilemma: should we adapt our unused garage into an office, or a library? We spend just as much money on books as ever before. The children having gone, we are now using two spare bedrooms as libraries. And still it’s not enough!
But, I’ll mention this and then I’ll shut up:
A few years ago, when I had started translating the ancient Greek texts and putting them on the net for everyone to download for free, I received quite a few emails -I remember one from Kenya, another from some remote place in India, from Chile, the Crimea (Ukraine) and others, from students, actors, directors, tutors, teachers and professors thanking me profusely because these books were simply not available where they were, or they were too expensive. One prof. was totally in Heaven because, he said, he always wanted to teach these classics but the books were either too expensive or impossible to buy. Requests for different plays keep coming. Then there was the Italian stallion in Canada….
It’s bloody hard work but the adrenalin never stops.
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Oh, my Gorrrrrd! Look at the damned lecture!
Blame it on my Greek DNA. Just can’t help rambling! Sorry folks.
Here’s a smily:
🙂
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ato, it’s a lovely ‘rant’. I’m sure Mike has already asked you to write about other things between your valued and valuable Greek myths. I asked T2 to do the same.
I love reading your , asty’s and Warrigal’s replies to other posters on these blogs.
When our kids moved , sometimes temporarily out of the house in Sydney, we had some overseas students to live in their rooms. They were all nice and interesting youngsters and we learned a lot about different cultures. It was also nice to have the house full again…
I was going to reply t o your post tonight, but I had to get away from the bloody book culling, it is bloody because my heart bleeds after separating from some of books, even I know I wouldn’t re-read them again…
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H, you’re a gem!
You, too gerard… and Mike and Waz and Maddie and Hung and voice and T2, and Algernon and AArgh and Big M and Mirriyuula the dog and DCI McDonald (her owner) and Bella Slava… Have I forgotten anyone? Please forgive me if I have… or blame my greek DNA…
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Thank you for that. There was never a problem with accents on a keybord with dual numbers but with the laptop it is a diffrent kettle of anchovies.
Even so, it is possible on laptops to create accents but too kompliziert.
This is coming from Gerard as Gerard.
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I use a laptop. It’s a software thing, not a hardware thing. It’s up to you of course, but nothing about it is intrinsically complicated; if it looks complicated it’s just crappy instructions on how to do it. I agree with the person at the link I included below that it is easy and convenient to use once configured; of course that’s a personal thing. But their configuration instructions aren’t the best.
This is a good ‘how to do it’ instruction for MS Windows:
http://tlt.its.psu.edu/suggestions/international/keyboards/winkey.html
Of course, I totally get it if you don’t want to be bothered with yet another ‘thing’.
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Hello Helvi,
Those diet books have been the banana skin on the doorstep of our relationship for decades.
I always thought you so svelte and lovely looking that any change of your shape, either more or less of you would be deleterious.
Chuck them out finally, and rest assured that the tango will continue.
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Now, that sounds rather male chauvinistic, if you ask me…
What are YOU willing to chuck out…duh,what’s this thing about the tango…?
Let’s not start on the banana skins, you might just slip on this one.
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Beautiful work, Helvi…
Beautiful comment, Warrigal…
How could anyone shoot their old books?
I love this blog!
🙂
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You are too kind, asty. I was reading your comments on Helen Razer’s blog and I thought: I have to ask asty to put some of his
other kind writing on Pig’s Arms between the more academic classical stories; alternating the big canvasses with your smaller pearls.
Same thoughts as I read your excellent replies on one of those stories about bullying.
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Good story, H.
I’m with Waz here. Have a lot of difficulty with culling books. Sorry to see you moving but respect your decision.
After my marriage kaboom, I moved all MY books with me, via Kennards storage and then into a book case I had had since childhood (real wood), and a big one my Uncle made for Mom to put family photos in – when Dad died – and which has since followed me when Mom went into care and no longer reads.
Not only can I not bear to see books that I haven’t even read go, I have even gone out (perhaps as an act of defiance) and re-purchased second hand my David Ireland novels and Kurt Vonnegut paperbacks and others that my wife had successfully encouraged me to cull years ago.
I think our libraries are part of the the definitions of ourselves, and like my appendix, despite some inconvenience, I am too attached to contemplate surgery again.
All the best with your move – when it happens. If you need a few of the pub regulars to help, I’m up as a volunteer. I think a fab meal for a bit of lifting and carrying amongst friends is a very good deal.
I haven’t seen Manne for ages.
Maddy, have you ?
Kind regards,
Emm.
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Emmjay, I do take notice of what you blokes have to say about books. Years ago when I tried to read Ireland’s ‘The Glass Canoe’, but could not get into it.
On one of gez’s blogs both you and Warrigal wrote that you liked his books. I thought then it must be worth reading and I searched high and low looking for it on shelves; it wasn’t to be found…
There was another David’s book in the cottage though, the title eludes me.
Tomorrow , when the visitors leave, I’ll rush in to rescue it. I let you all know later how I found it.
I’ll also try Vonnegut, the library or second hand, just to test the waters.
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Why are you two moving?
I detect no infirmity, no diminution of faculties or capacity. Neither of you strike me as being in any way unable to keep up the place.
I thought this was a done deal and the move was on, and now I discover that you haven’t even put the place on the market yet. Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay put and then you wouldn’t have to cull your library, which to my mind is like putting a gun to the heads of a band of loyal old retainers.
And the wombats. What about the wombats. And echidnas and parrots and possums and quolls and wallabies. The blue tongues and skinks and the lethal browns; and the hard fawn clay in the drought and the soft green grass after a rain.
We wish you all the best with the change but I for one will be saddened when you finally move. There’ll be one less special place in the world. The Oostery in the highlands has become a kind of mental redoubt for us all I think. A magical place where wisdom seems to seep up out of the ground and the air has a sustaining quality.
Have you really thought this through?
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Warrigal, you don’t know how many English words I have learnt from your postings; discombobulate and now, redoubt ! Keep them coming..
I’m trying to keep this light, but your charming words are making me feel a bit emotional about farms, animals and about on line friends…
We had lunch with Max and Thomas and mum of course; Thomas kept reading his Roald Dahl between bites of ham…I told daughter, please let him…Max had ten dollars and according to him, he could make it to thirty by buying ten one dollar scratchies and winning with all of them. He’s got a amazing sence of humour and an understanding of numbers.
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Well diagnosed Warrigal.
We are indeed in robust health. Even so, we both thought it prudent that before the first sign of any adult nappy, ‘bending and bulging while bowling’, we would get closer to at least the facilities in case of any eventuality.
Today, we had a trial run. I walked with our grandsons to The Bradman Oval in Bowral. Max had a Milo cup of ice cream while Thomas and I had a chocolate coated Cornetto each. The museum was dead and so was the oval. Not a soul until a large SUV car with some Japanese tourists pulled up. They looked incredulous at the empty oval and looked at us for guidance unaware of my own personal lack of runs or innings.
Max claimed he found two dollars and wanted to indulge in his addiction to scratchies. I only hope he did not take the $ 2.- from the Bradman Wishing Well which he was studying some moments before.
We sauntered down and bought the two scratchies which the lady from the shop advised me to not hand them over inside her shop. Apparently, scratchies are against the law for children but violent crumble or war games are fine and encouraged as being totally all right.
It took almost two hours before I got back to Helvi and daughter. It was a good day and Bowral was sunny and lively. We will be near cinema and book shops.
Even so, it will be tears for rain leaving our farm.
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Good one dearest.
Can someone give my boring Paraguaya story tick nr. 30 please.
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Thanks for putting it up, gez. I’ll have to ask voicec to add the Umlauts on Boll…
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Bitte schön.
Of course, you could have just cut and pasted. But if you want to type accents reasonably frequently using a standard keyboard you’d buy in Australia, just configure the software to use the International keyboard layout. I find it very convenient. Once set up, you can swap between the two layouts. See:
http://french.about.com/od/writing/ss/typeaccents_6.htm
(To initiate the closure of an earlier conversation in which a more wide-eyed Emmjay was also involved.)
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