My friend from the communications department and I were kidnapped from the college library several years ago. We were sorely missed no doubt, though no rescue attempts have been made. Prior to my abduction, I had spent a decade telling undergraduates all they needed to know about electronics. With my hardback covers, and almost 600 pages of no-nonsense facts, I was a seminal work in the field. I am not light either, and the kidnapper must have been very determined to get us out (fortunately) in one piece.
My kidnapper left no ransome note. He bypassed the librarian completely, and her state of the art pen and paper reservation and booking system, and I was smuggled out to help in exam preparation. Far from being liberated after the exams were completed, my kidnapper ran around drinking and eating kebabs, completely overlooking my return, and the anguish my absence had no doubt caused the librarian.
My companion and I had been gathering dust in the home of the kidnapper for many years, but something changed this morning. We were loaded into a rucksack and transported many miles. From our dark resting place, we can make out the noise of traffic, of announcements about Kings Cross Saint Pancras. We think we are in London. In the rucksack with us are many things. A suit. An invitation to a reunion at the college of our library. A dangerous looking bottle of 95% pure alcohol, and another of Buckfast tonic wine.
We are excited – our minds reel with possibilities. Perhaps he plans to return us to our library. Perhaps we will once again rub shoulders with Howatson, Lund and Todd and all of our other library friends. Oh please let it be so. Take us back to the paradise library, where they the books are fine and the shelves are sturdy, oh won’t you please take us home.