An Artist of the Floating World which, along with the March-like damp weather and the uncertain gut, has left me feeling bleh.
What are you reading now
Hilary McKay, Binnie for Short- enchanting McKay as ever.
Peter Dickinson, Merlin Dreams- not sure if I'm fantodded or not.
Sophie Masson, The Tempestuous Voyage of Hopewell Shakespeare- ditto.
Dick Francis, The Edge- set in Canada, full of pleasant bland Canadians and one very nasty Brit. Should speed-read to discover what the nasty Brit did to all his poor suicidal victims.
What will you read next?
Probably all the above, plus whatever book G gave me for Christmas.
I'm sure there's some self-help skill or cog-behav method to kick one out of the Christmas doldrums. I might try it one of these days when I stop being so bloody tired.
Otherwise there was a strange beetle in the side bedroom yesterday with a kind of triceratops frill about its head (luckily no horns.) Did the glass-and-paper trick and dropped him on to the flat roof. Windows have *not* been open in spite of 10C highs so he probably originated in the house and may not survive the Great Outdoors. OTOH tomorrow is supposed to be 17. Daffodils bloom and pseudo-crickets survive.)