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Evidently if I walk 10,000 steps one day, next morning I will wake up blissfully untroubled by that damnable left hip flexor that likes to turn into concrete. This was nice, but of course it didn't survive even my morning exercises. Still, a possibility for the future.
Then one of my former coworkers texted me, asking would I be up for a visit. 'I'll bring lunch and coffee!' Not today, because I had to go to physio, but maybe tomorrow. Of course *then* I took stock of my untidy house, hardly conducive to a pleasant meal together. So after physio I tackled the front room dining table, moving stacks of CDs to, well, somewhere else, and various papers to either the blue bin or the bag to be shredded. Physio alas didn't help the lower back, so much sitting and stretching was needed. And of course tomorrow is recycle so I had to bag up a bunch of manga and doujinshi from the bedroom. Place is moderately tidier than it was, but must still vacuum and wash a load of dishes, when what I want to do is veg in front of the fan.
Books finished last week? Damned, a nice ending to a good series. I was pretty sure of a happy ending but I have some kind of inherited anxiety, or even for all I know generational trauma, about the French Revolution where things can never ever end well. So I'm glad they did, even if I wondered how magic worked out for Eleanor afterwards.
A Littlejohn mystery or maybe two: popcorn reading, ostensibly for bicycling to, only I haven't been bicycling. This is what happens if I stop for a day or two after finishing my last e-book, because summer inertia is deadly like that.
Otherwise nothing else, still moseying along in JS&MN, and determinedly not reading The Odyssey because Odysseus is now back in Ithaca and behaving like an utter prat.
Then one of my former coworkers texted me, asking would I be up for a visit. 'I'll bring lunch and coffee!' Not today, because I had to go to physio, but maybe tomorrow. Of course *then* I took stock of my untidy house, hardly conducive to a pleasant meal together. So after physio I tackled the front room dining table, moving stacks of CDs to, well, somewhere else, and various papers to either the blue bin or the bag to be shredded. Physio alas didn't help the lower back, so much sitting and stretching was needed. And of course tomorrow is recycle so I had to bag up a bunch of manga and doujinshi from the bedroom. Place is moderately tidier than it was, but must still vacuum and wash a load of dishes, when what I want to do is veg in front of the fan.
Books finished last week? Damned, a nice ending to a good series. I was pretty sure of a happy ending but I have some kind of inherited anxiety, or even for all I know generational trauma, about the French Revolution where things can never ever end well. So I'm glad they did, even if I wondered how magic worked out for Eleanor afterwards.
A Littlejohn mystery or maybe two: popcorn reading, ostensibly for bicycling to, only I haven't been bicycling. This is what happens if I stop for a day or two after finishing my last e-book, because summer inertia is deadly like that.
Otherwise nothing else, still moseying along in JS&MN, and determinedly not reading The Odyssey because Odysseus is now back in Ithaca and behaving like an utter prat.
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That's walking with a rollator, of course, which makes things easier in that I can always sit down when things start screaming, which of course they do. Most days I barely manage 2000. 5K is a very good day for me.
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It was a Pimpernel story - I felt it should have a happy ending. (I had considered giving Chauvelin a somewhat heroic death, but by the time I got there it felt like killing him just for the sake of it, so he survived.)
I honestly don’t have any definitive ideas about Eleanor and magic long-term - perhaps she and Charles stumbled across long-hidden magical networks, or maybe she just had to work to improve on her own while Charles had fun researching the history . . . But I like to think they found their own happy ending, even if I can’t work out how.
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Chauvelin was an excellent antagonist, and I loved his grumpy collaboration in Damned. Glad he survived to scheme another day.
Maybe Eleanor comes across a mage in Russia, out in the countryside, who lives in a cottage on chicken legs.
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I think Orczy never actually had Chauvelin die on stage, but hinted that he was caught up in Robespierre's fall. But since he wasn't there when that happened in France, in my version . . .