The plight of adequate shelving inside homes is generally solved by buying shelving from shops. I will never understand architecture that supplies multitude toilets but no shelving. We, after our move from a place where the owner had installed so many shelving one could almost have sub-let to small Turkish families all the space taken up by it. Acres of book shelves!

After initially storing most of our books in milk crates, finally got some second hand antique bookshelves. Take the antique with a grain of salt, merely some dark stain applied to a light coloured background giving an aged look where perhaps only about thirty years might have passed. None the less, many books were hopefully shelved on those during its history and I have no reason to believe that only Car magazines or Playboys ever adorned those wooden surfaces. Here and there an attempt at patching the framework showed up, further proof that they had been used and that at least some time had passed.  This is a great consolation and a good omen when buying book shelves.

After many hours by Helvi of unpacking the milk crates, many books now found a more substantial, and hopefully final resting place. The milk crates were also a remnant of past history when I used to roam the Inner West, at the crack of dawn, for milk crates when I was making home brew beer in the garage.

The space for books on those shelves was still somewhat scarce and we went for another hunt. This time we drove again to ‘Dirty Jane’ where we had secured the previous shelving.

I noticed a couple of boxes that had a ticket written and pinned to them, ‘bee boxes, and kauri pine’ and ‘dove tailed’, thirty dollars each. I suppose, the bees, not in their wildest dreams, could ever have thought that their homes would end up shelving books. There you have it though. No more honey just books.