Bogotol Forever

My workplace looks like this. Let only someone try to call me a nonpatriot.

The tree in which I sit (namely in which, and not under which) is very useful in terms of motivation for work. The branches are covered with long, with a little finger, sharp spikes. As soon as you begin to doze over the documents, you definitely drive into the spike and wake up immediately.

But, by the way, you don’t do it much - in the Bogotol archive it is as cold as in Achinsky. Even if dressed in the winter version. I sat an hour, and then ran to the hotel, since she was nearby, a warm sleeveless jacket and a flannel shirt. Buried. But there is good news - they say that winter will end soon.

The cases turned out to be not six hundred, but eight hundred (I heard poorly on the phone). This is only in the district archive, and there is also a city one. Which, by telephone, denied the presence of a fund of deprived of them, and at a full -time rate and interrogation of the third degree admitted that it was. How many things are there, I will find out tomorrow morning. All this in total means that I will not get off here for two weeks. Miner month.

The Fund is deprived of in the district archive perfectly organized: first 25 cases with lists and protocols, then registered cases. The lists, alas, manuscript, surnames are not always clear, but are easily installed according to the inventory, which is also at hand. The village councils approached the compilation of lists very responsibly - almost everywhere a year of birth, not age, the composition of the family is spelled out in the lists in sufficient detail.

Source .