Well, I borrowed Tagore's Post Office and read it on the train on the way home, it probably took about twenty minutes. It's about a small boy called Amal whose adoptive father keeps him indoors because he is poorly. When Amal discovers a new Post Office has been erected by the King he is thrilled:
AMAL: Say, what's going on there in that big house on the other side, where there is a flag flying high up and the people are always going in and out?
WATCHMAN: Oh, there? That's our new Post Office.
AMAL: Post Office? Whose?
WATCHMAN: Whose? Why, the King's surely!
AMAL: Do letters come from the King to his office here?
WATCHMAN: Of course. One fine day there may be a letter for you in there.
AMAL: A letter for me? But I am only a little boy.
WATCHMAN: The King sends tiny notes to little boys.
AMAL: Oh, how splendid! When shall I have my letter? How do you know he'll write to me?
I also borrowed a PhD thesis about Tagore that has shown me he is someone I should actually have heard of, so I feel a bit foolish. He was the first Asian (the way people in the US & UK define 'Asian' and Australians generally don't, i.e. he was Indian) to win the Novel Prize for Literature. Looking forward to gleaning more from that.
I also learnt a little more about the Parthenon in Grange Road by general dipping into the Sands and McDougall directory. In 1919 it was the home of Mr. Louis Smith. Ten years later the listed resident was Mrs Louise Smith. I don't know if Louis changed his sex or what. More bizarre possibilities cross my mind. I think I need to go to 10 Grange Road. Though the Smiths probably don't live there anymore.