Patterns. (And shameless writing practice)

#Hasthiseverhappenedtoyou

Yesterday I went to join Ripon Library.

Hoping to expand my mind on a shrinking budget.

I actually wanted to order The Fibonacci Sequence for Dummies.

If you don’t know it, it’s the maths behind spirals.

This dummy knows nothing about it.

It turns out I’m already a member.

I have no recollection of this.

I had to pay an unbudgeted £22.00 in library fines for books late returned, and apparently one book never came back.

I literally recoiled into uncomfortableness. As did the lady who served me, to her credit. An unexpected £22.00 worth.

Spiralling back to my teens, a friend signed me up to be a pupil librarian.

The privilege of being a pupil librarian (aside from using the date stamp) is spying on your fellow pupils.

So of course, we were enticed by ‘the blacklist.’

But at the top of the list was my name.

For not returning a book I had no recollection of.

 Life is full of patterns.

And I’ve been effortlessly spiralling for years.

A walking Fibonacci dummy.

 I didn’t order the book yet.

I suspect I know more than I think.