Amusingly, it was accompanied by an old fashioned invoice requesting payment to the Berliner Sparkasse or the Deutsche Bank. I sent euros via PayPal - we'll see if the printers can deal with it. If not, it looks like Xoom.com (hello glovercom!) has been reincarnated as a send-money-internationally Web site, so I'll try that next.
The beautiful object that I am holding is the second hand-printed book written by Max Goldt and typeset by Martin Z. Schröder: it's a sort of sequel to their A Yellow Plastic Thermometer Shaped Like A Red Plastic Fish, which was lovely too.
Is it crazy of me to like some things just because the physical effort involved in creating them was immense? You don't see books like this all that much in ordinary life; other than the occasional tiny poetry chapbook, who does these things any more?