It has turned all cold and horrid today and so I have hurried home to close all the windows, put on the central heating and some cosy warm jumpers, and get out the extra duvet. I quite like it when it is cold, especially at autumn time when everything smells different and it seems like people ought to be having fireworks and getting ready for Xmas.
I would just like some warning that is all, so I do not spend the day at work shivering in a flimsy T-shirt. Well I am warming up a bit now, looking forward to a nice hot dinner and a glass of posh wine, then maybe a relaxing bath! I hardly ever have baths so it is a special treat, do not laugh it is obvious what I meant. I am surprisingly clean when you look at my messy flat. Perhaps people with super tidy houses are secretly crawling with lice themselves!
In book news, it was such a long ride out to Heathrow and back on the tube that I read the whole of Out of Africa which is brilliant, I practically cried at the end when she had to leave the farm, except I turned it into a pretend cough halfway through. I do not think anyone suspeckted.
Then yesterday I read a book all about the history of the Royal Marine Commandos (Robin Neillands’ By Sea And Land) which was moderately intresting, except it just made me sad reading about all the people whose lives were stupidly thrown away for nothing much at places like Dieppe and Anzio and the Falklands.
Anyway that is my phillersophical observation for the day, war is rubbish. Then today I have been mostly reading Joanne Harris’ Five Quarters of the Orange which is fantastic. The reviews of her books always go on as if they are all about food, which is silly really, like saying The Lord of the Rings is about jewellery. Yes, it is central to the stories, but Harris’ books are always full of dark secrets, suspicion, lust, alienation, mystery, otherness ekcetera which makes me think that she might be a jolly good cook but I would not want to be round at her house after dark. In case she did something horrid to me after dessert.