£83.16

I’ve realised, while writing this blog, that I am making myself look like a massive dork. If you’ve not met me, you may be picturing a little troll that lives under a canopy of Menudo posters, drinking strawberry milk through a bendy straw and giggling anytime somebody mentions geometry. “Hee hee hee, polygons!” Actually, I’m fairly normal. Fairly. But this entry is going to do nothing to disprove the geeky troll hypothesis.

I was a little girls in the 1980’s, and like many American girls my age, I was batshit obsessed with the Babysitters Club. According to Wikipedia, there ended up being 131 volumes in the original BSC series (there were also specials, super-specials, mystery specials…) and I believe I read them up until about book 83. Which is embarrassing, because that one didn’t come out until 1995. Which would make me 15. I suppose that’s not terribly shocking, considering I still devour children’s books like a donut-smuggling kid at Fat Camp. Happily, Harry Potter and Twilight have made grown-ups geeking out with kids’ books a bit more acceptable.

For those of you who are male, young or not American, The books revolve around a group of Connecticut girls who form a babysitting business – and they’re best friends. Each book started out with a chapter describing each of the members and her characteristics (including Claudia’s “fresh” threads) before we got into the meat of the story. I use the term “meat” loosely, as often a book’s central event might be a child beauty pageant, a missing kitten or an oh-so-terrifying chain letter.

Anyway, about a year ago, overnight, I developed a desperate need to reread the Babysitters Club series. I can’t explain how this happened, only that it was immediate, intense and all-consuming. I couldn’t just read one, and I certainly couldn’t read them in any old order: I needed as many as I could get my hands on, sequentially. And I couldn’t just skip from number 6 to number 8: I needed continuity. The fact that each book was a stand-alone, and stories didn’t continue from one book to the next, was irrelevant. If I was gonna do this, I was gonna do it right.

With a determination rivalling Kristy’s, I began searching amazon.co.uk. With math skills to put Stacey’s to shame, I examined pricing, shipping fees and discount rates for multiple purchases to get the maximum number of books for the lowest cost. With secretarial skills surely channelled from Mary-Ann, I notated each book added to my cart to ensure all volumes were purchased and no book was left behind. When I clicked the “purchase” button, I danced with celebration – much like Jessi probably would have. Beautifully, and in a tutu.

When all was said and done, I managed to get volumes 1 – 50, plus several Super Specials, for the bargain price of £83.16. God, I was proud. I suppose I was slightly less proud when all 50-something books were delivered, in individual padded envelopes, to my office while I was away on holiday. I came back to a desk and bookshelf full of stacks of parcels and then got to explain to my boss and my lovely Co-Worker Next Door exactly what I’d received in all those dozens of envelopes. And that didn’t make me look ridiculous in the slightest.

Apparently, the books are now out of print (and no, I didn’t know that off the top of my head, I Wikipediaed that shit). Maybe my battered, dog-eared, third hand Babysitters Club books will suddenly become collectors’ items, bringing in four or five times their original value and providing me with a little chunk of change to sock in a savings account towards that elusive mortgage deposit. Until then, My Attractive Husband has packed them away in the top drawer of an old chest in our living room as if they’re holey knickers and mismatched socks. And there they will remain, until I get my butt in gear and list them on eBay.

Oh, who am I kidding? You know I’m starting over from Kristy’s Great Idea tonight.

Where My House Went: £2304.34