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She got down but she never got tired/ She's gonna make it through the night
Or through this week, and the worst is now (fingers crossed) over.
I'm always surprised, come the end of August, at how early it gets dark. 'Just the other day it was still light at nine' etc. So I shall note here that at the beginning of August the sun is hitting third floors and roofs at 8, l'heure blue begins at 8:30, and it is dark at nine.
Put bird mesh over my swimming pool garden and so far the squash flowers not only remain intact, one plant went so far as to produce vegetables. Vegetable. To be precise, a zucchini. And vaguely I remember sowing some zuke seeds as well as the kabocha ones but... what happened to all my squash plants?
What have you just finished reading?
Kirin no Tsubasa.
What are you reading now?
Broken Homes. Aaronovitch's narration is such that a third of the way through the book I had to go back and start reading it again because I'd retained nothing of the opening that was then referenced forty pages later. In fact, I really need to go back and reread Whispers Underground. Evidently I spend so much time listening to Peter being Peter that I forget to note what he's doing as he does it. Or possibly, I remember one plot thread and forget the other two, especially if they get dropped almost immediately in favour of young Americans falling dead in Tube stations and everything that comes after that. Eg: Foxes? There were foxes in that book?
PD James, Death Comes to Pemberley. Ohh because. Thought Austen pastiche and mystery would while away a hideous work week. Forgot James' idiosyncrasies, one of which is her thing about well-proportioned rooms. For her, murder is a lapse in good behaviour but renovating an old house and destroying the proportions of the rooms is the sin that cries aloud to heaven for vengeance™. If her murderers have good enough taste, the lapse becomes a mere peccadillo.
What will you read next?
Whatever comes up in Library Lotto, maybe; or maybe vol 3 of the Parasol Protectorate (not that I have vol 2, mind); or maybe some more Japanese now that I'm back with it. Japanese detective stories have this advantage over fantasy: one already knows most of the vocabulary (unless it's Aaronovitch Syndrome, with in his case all those acronyms and in Higashino's all those police ranks); there's a minimum of katakana; and none of the katakana are names hallelujah. Alas, what's on the shelf is mostly fantasy.
I'm always surprised, come the end of August, at how early it gets dark. 'Just the other day it was still light at nine' etc. So I shall note here that at the beginning of August the sun is hitting third floors and roofs at 8, l'heure blue begins at 8:30, and it is dark at nine.
Put bird mesh over my swimming pool garden and so far the squash flowers not only remain intact, one plant went so far as to produce vegetables. Vegetable. To be precise, a zucchini. And vaguely I remember sowing some zuke seeds as well as the kabocha ones but... what happened to all my squash plants?
What have you just finished reading?
Kirin no Tsubasa.
What are you reading now?
Broken Homes. Aaronovitch's narration is such that a third of the way through the book I had to go back and start reading it again because I'd retained nothing of the opening that was then referenced forty pages later. In fact, I really need to go back and reread Whispers Underground. Evidently I spend so much time listening to Peter being Peter that I forget to note what he's doing as he does it. Or possibly, I remember one plot thread and forget the other two, especially if they get dropped almost immediately in favour of young Americans falling dead in Tube stations and everything that comes after that. Eg: Foxes? There were foxes in that book?
PD James, Death Comes to Pemberley. Ohh because. Thought Austen pastiche and mystery would while away a hideous work week. Forgot James' idiosyncrasies, one of which is her thing about well-proportioned rooms. For her, murder is a lapse in good behaviour but renovating an old house and destroying the proportions of the rooms is the sin that cries aloud to heaven for vengeance™. If her murderers have good enough taste, the lapse becomes a mere peccadillo.
What will you read next?
Whatever comes up in Library Lotto, maybe; or maybe vol 3 of the Parasol Protectorate (not that I have vol 2, mind); or maybe some more Japanese now that I'm back with it. Japanese detective stories have this advantage over fantasy: one already knows most of the vocabulary (unless it's Aaronovitch Syndrome, with in his case all those acronyms and in Higashino's all those police ranks); there's a minimum of katakana; and none of the katakana are names hallelujah. Alas, what's on the shelf is mostly fantasy.
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If you have one zucchini, I suspect you will soon have more. I know that once the ones in my parents' garden start producing, they do not stop. I'm visiting in a couple of weeks, and expect to come back loaded down with zucchini, beans, and tomatoes. (Which are all very well, but can be awkward on a five-hour train journey.)
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I can well imagine the awkwardness of parental largesse and Britrail combined. I suppose I shall be happy to have something edible, but why can't that something be buttercup squash?
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