Thursday, November 08, 2007


Another sunlit upland valley of the mind, found at the Salvation Army: Phyllis Rose, Parallel Lives. These are stories of five Victorian literary marriages, and part of my pleasure is the overlap with History and English, long, long ago. Something of my adolescent love of study, tainted but true, filters through to the here and now sweetly purified by years in the granite and shale of my hinter mind.

I came home to an empty house, very unusual now, so turned on music and oven and made biscuits for the quarry, soup for an army, and laid out clamps, measures, saw and boarding ready to start on Stefan's ceiling, but the sun has at last come out so I might muddle happily in the garden, green and sprouting in Califoria's quirky false autumn-spring.

I have pleasure stored up for me too - Jazz Cleopatra: Josephine Baker In Her Time is waiting for me at the library. I have been reading too many novels of late, brought on by the authors lunches I suppose - another this Saturday. And eighteen chairs to cover for a new client.

Recommended film from our viewing last night is Knocked Up. Funny, true, bad-mannered.


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