Random Jottings

Beach/Holiday/Summer Reading

I hate to tell you this but I am off again in a couple of weeks. I am going to Madeira for a fortnight and yes I know I can hear you shrieking but this wretched woman has just got back from Australia, and I know it is a hard life but somebody has to do it. You will remember last year I had a week in Funchal with a companion who said I was 'moribund' and it was not a fun time. My lovely sister and bro in law have a timeshare in Funchal and have a spare two weeks on their tab and so have invited me to come with them and they say they are looking forward to showing me all the places I did not get to see last time. I have my own apartment which for reasons of family harmony is a good idea and I am looking forward to it very much.

And so I have to sort out books etc to take with me and this is where I am so pleased I have a Kindle.  It really came into its own in Oz where I read about 25 books and most of them on my e-reader. When I think how determined I was not to own such a ghastly object I am amazed at how shortsighted I was - now my suitcase only has clothes in it and not lined with books as it used to be.

I dislike designating a book a Beach Read as this seems somewhat derogatory as if it is only worth reading when lolling by the pool or on the sand and this is not the case, but let's face it, we are hardly going to read Dickens, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky under the hot sunshine when smothered in Factor 30 now are you?   And if you do, then my apologies but this sort of reading, for me anyway, is best kept to the winter and dark evenings.   If I wish to turn to the classics in the summer it has to be Jane Austen...

I have read several books in the last week which I would happily take on holiday with me, they are all enjoyable and well written but do not demand that you take notes or write an essay on its meaningfulness when you have read them.   When I was in Australia I found I read a huge amount of crime and thrillers mixed up with my rediscovery of Norman Collins.   The Lee Childs books are read and then forgotten, they are all the same and great fun but you don't need to worry about the characterisation because there isn't any.   I read Michael Connelly who I think is an excellent writer and his main protagonist, Harry Bosch, a much more interesting personality than Jack Reacher (oh and I tried to watch the movie on the plane, you know the one with Tom Cruise, all two feet of him, playing the eponymous hero who happens to be  6' 5" and gave up after fifteen minutes - crap, total crap).

OK I am meandering again. In the last week I have read the latest in the No 1 Ladies Detective Agency by McCall Smith.   I am finding these a bit slow and, sorry to say it, a tad boring now and wondering if the author should leave Precious Ramotswe alone.   They are rather sweet and gentle but are getting somewhat repetitive and I feel enough is enough though others will disagree. Though the title is the Limpopo Academy of Private Detection just why it is called this is left to the end and it is all rather nebulous and up in the air.  You could pick this up, read a chapter and then fall asleep in the shade quite happily.

The Hanging Wood by Martin Edwards another of his excellent detective series set in the Lake District and featuring DCI Hannah Scarlett, head of the Cold Case Review team. Orla Payne is haunted the the disappearance of her brother some twenty years ago and rings the team to see if they can help her solve the mystery of what actually happened to Calum all that time ago.  Shortly after she makes this call she is found dead - murder or suicide?   The case in the past seems linked to the present and it all gets very nasty and murky.    I have read all the titles in this series and think they are excellent. Good tight plots and narrative and surely some TV company should take them up?    The setting could not be more beautiful.

Earlier this year I came across a book in the library, The Villa by Rosanna Ley in which our heroine Tess, inherits a villa in Sicily. Her mother left the island when young and has never been back and has never spoken of her past but Tess sets off to get to know her mother's birthplace.   It was a lovely story full of sunshine and with flashbacks to her mother's story as well as her own and I enjoyed it very much so was delighted to be sent her second novel, Bay of Secrets which I finished yesterday.   The setting this time is Barcelona and England and once more the narrative flicks backards and forwards in time from the viewpoint of Sister Julia a nursing nun during the Spanish Civil War who has a secret which is a burden to her to that of Ruby Rae recovering from the sudden death of her parents in a motor accident. When sorting out her parent's house and contents she discovers a secret which has been kept from her all her life and following its trail leads her life to intertwine with that of Sister Julia as they find the link that brings them together.   Great read and, as it is set in the warmth of Spain, perfect for reading in the sun with a glass of something long and cool to hand. I look forward to the next by this author.

More reading for holiday coming up when I have sorted out what I am taking with me, but at the moment I am reading Erica James who reminds me very much of Rosamund Pilcher and Marcia Willets in style and setting and I mean that as a compliment.   She has a fairly long list of titles and I have only read a few and so I think she may be coming with me, probably on my Kindle.  

So two weeks ahead of me for relaxing, reading and, no doubt, dozing in the sunshine with a book on my knee.  I can't think of a better way of spending one's time....

Random Weekly Ramble

It is Friday morning and I am sitting propped up in bed with cup of tea and trusty laptop. Yes I now have wifi and can already foresee many happy such mornings and probably evenings too when the nights draw in and winter is here spent in the warmth and snuggle of my bed. But must not mention winter, there has been Too Much of it recently (yes but you have been in Australia I hear you cry) and though yesterday was a glorious day, it is back to grey and rain and dreary this morning.

I tend to meander about a bit in between writing about books so have decided that I am going to have a weekly ramble and do it in one post and that is that.   I know this is a book blog and supposed to be full of witty, informative and well written, well thought out reviews (HAH) but as most of you know by now, even when reviewing, I poodle along in my own way.   I have just spent an hour visiting other blogs by fellow bloggers I love and admire and it always leaves me feeing depressed as their erudition and ability to spot subtle meanings in a book which passed me by, is not good for one's morale. But hey, some of us are Enid Blyton and some of us are Tolstoy and we have to accept our fate.

I have rather let slip visiting other blogs and leaving comments in the last year or so which is a shame because there are so many lovely and fascinating blogs out there and so many kindred spirits so I am making a resolution that I will Ramble weekly and check them out and leave comments of my own. We all love receiving visits and comments and I am determined to get stuck in. Only problem of course is that because of the richness and quality of the blogging community hours can pass by before you realise it. No matter, that is my plan.

So apart from organising wifi (which involved re-setting my router with the use of a paperclip which always amazes me) what else have I done?   Well first of all I have finally sorted out all my post which awaited me on my return. Car insurance had to be renewed, ditto contents of flat. Then bills had to be paid, money transferred, a new ISA opened specifically for saving for upgrade to next flight to Oz (just up to Premium Economy, not first - oh I wish), set up standing order for monthly save. Then I have been clearing out and selling CDs, DVDs and old laptops and finding I can get money for them which will all help.   Until last night I was planning to put that money into the new ISA but alas and alack this is not going to happen. My TV is about seven years old and has started playing up a bit and then when I switched it on last night there was a blink, the screen went bright blue and the colour has gone and it is all hazy at the edges so clear that it is a goner.   I had been hoping it would last a bit longer but no such luck.   So off out this morning to get a new one.   I am not a TV snob and freely admit that I could not live without it and now I have Sky and access to tennis and cricket etc no way am I going to be without one so after shower and breakfast off I go so that money will now be channelled for this purpose. Hey ho.

Highlight of the week has been my day in London on Wednesday to see my darling girls again. Felicity, Helen's mother in law was in charge that day but I went up so we could meet up and have a chat and it was lovely to see her. Helen had to attend a course so Florence went to nursery and only Beatrice was at home. She is growing up so quickly and sits up and plays and is generally a delight. She has a habit of fixing you with a solemn and penetrating look and weighs you up and has a think and then when she is satisfied you are acceptable this huge beam lights up her face and just melts the heart.   Felicity and I set off early to collect Florence and as her mum had told her that Two Grandmothers were coming to fetch her she was very excited. I went in to fetch her and the way her face lit up when she saw me and she came tearing across shrieking Grandma! reduced me to tears.  

Quite a few of the children came up for a chat and one of them said 'I'm Lina' who I had heard a lot about and Florence put her arm around her and said 'Lina is my best friend' which I thought was sweet and then a rather bolshy little boy came up and announced 'I'm Aiden and Florence is NOT my best friend' to which I replied 'Your loss'..............

Gorgeous day and I left after bath time with two sweet smelling little adorable girls in their nighties and drove home thinking how blessed I was.

And on that lofty and high minded note I will finish this Ramble and get my butt out of bed and go and put the kettle on.

The Grantchester Mysteries - James Runcie

Last year Bloomsbury published the first in this series of investigations by the Reverend Sidney Chambers, a sort of male Miss Marple, and I simply loved it - my review is here.

The second has just dropped through my letterbox, or rather handed over by my postman who thinks the number of parcels I receive is hilarious, and other books read or half-read were abandoned while I sat down to read Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night.  There are six murders and mysteries to solve contained in this one volume, I suppose they are long short stories if that is the right description and I think the author is right to keep them between 60-90 pages.   Long enough to develop a plot, give us the suspects and see Sidney solve the mystery.   They are written with a lightness and deftness of touch which I feel might be difficult to sustain in a full length novel - as it is, they are just right.

The first book was set in the 1950s and in the second we are up to the early sixties and Sidney finds himself dithering over his relationship with Hildegarde, who he met when he investigated her husband's death in Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death. She has moved back to Germany and has kept up a correspondence with Sidney who visits her in Berlin. He is falling in love with her but not sure of her feelings and this relationship is explored as part of the narrative thread.

I will not give details of all the stories, I don't want to give any clues or spoil the joy of discovery,  but must just mention one which involves cricket.   From the author's description and setting it is clear that he is a fan and the juxtaposition of a cricket match and a murder is irresistible.    "Sidney was reminded how quickly the game could change. He couldn't switch off, even for a second because in cricket, no matter how long the game felt or how dull the passage of play, a chance could come off every ball.  The fielder had to wait for the moment: expecting it, trusting that it would come eventually and then seize it. So much depended on whether the chance was taken or dropped, and those quick, unpredictable flashes of action could influence the outcome of the whole match. It was a game that, like many a crime, balanced patience with opportunity"

That is one of the best explanations of the fascination of a cricket match that I have read in a long time. Throw in a cricketing tea at which several people fall sick with a mystery illness, death of a slow bowler by poisening and you have a tricky little mystery to solve.  This was my favourite of all the stories.

It all gets rather exciting for Sidney, perhaps too much so, when he visits Hildegarde in Berlin only to find that she has gone to see her mother in East Germany, follows her and finds himself in a tricky situation as he falls foul of the authorities just as the Berlin Wall goes up.

There are going to be six in this series, I gather, and it will be interesting to see the historical background in each one though I must admit that realising events and times I remember only too well are now to be viewed in a historical context, is a lowering thought.  These books fall into the 'cosy' category of murders, which really is an oxymoron if one thinks about it, but they have that gentle timelessness of Miss Marple and St Mary Mead, cucumber sandwiches for tea, cricket on the village green and walks in the country with Sidney and his faithful dog, Dicken, meetings in the pub with his friendly policeman Inspector Keating, and evensong and sunset.   It is all rather delightful and whimsical and I simply love these books and their ambience.

If you have not made the acquaintance of Sidney Chambers then I recommend you do so at the earliest opportunity.

Country Loving - Cathy Woodman

Finally getting a bit of time to read some books. I am still catching up on post and dealing with boring things like renewing car insurance, home insurance etc and though my jet lag is now OK I am finding I am still slightly disorientated at being home and getting used to being on my own again. So I have taken it easy with my books and in the last few days have read two charming and delightful books which, if the authors will forgive me for saying so, did not call for the exercise of my little grey cells. Both enjoyable relaxing reads.

First up, Country Loving by Cathy Woodman.  Stevie, a successful accountant living in the city, receives a call from her father's farm. She left when she was eighteen after a quarrel with her father and had only returned for her mother's funeral, but now he is ill and unable to manage the livestock and the day to day running.  Much against her will she sets off for what she thinks is going to be a few days and her boyfriend Nick comes with her.  She arrives in time to stop her father being prosecuted for neglecting his animals and in danger of arrest for letting off potshots with his rifle.   Having soothed and calmed down the policeman and vet respectively Stevie realises she has to stay and sort matters out.  The weekend turns into weeks and she makes the decision to return home permanently and run the farm.   Her relationship with Nick doesn't survive and she realises that though she had been hesitating about marrying him, not being sure they were suited, the fact that the local vet, Leo, is rather attractive has not gone unnoticed.

Stevie has to find ways to make the farm pay and though some of her ideas meet with local opposition she is determined to stay and make things work.   Not long before she and Leo are seeing each other and then, shock horror, she discovers she is pregnant and the father is not Leo but Nick. So in love with one man, pregnant by another, struggling to kep things going, dealing with her irascable dad and falling out with the neighbouring farmer, she has a lot to contend with.

Written with a light touch and humour, I enjoyed this book very much. I stayed in bed late one morning, resting, making no attempt to do all the chores which were awaiting me and Country Loving was the perfect read on such an occasion.   Lovely to dream about living in the country and enjoying it second hand which is probably the safest thing for me as I know full well that if I did leave a town life for rural delights, pretty sure I would be tearing my hair out within a month. Much better to do it in the pages of a book.

Second read was the latest Sidney Chambers book by James Runcie which was sheer delight from start to finish and will post about that tomorrow. I am writing this post in bed and tiredness has just overwhelmed me and I am now going to snuggled down.

Random Friday

I am still finding it hard to adjust to being at home.   It took about five days before I started to sleep properly and not wake up at 3 am and it was not until Tuesday, when I went to a Pilates class, that the knots in my muscles from the awful flight home finally relaxed.   I am determined to save up enough money for a better seat for my next trip.

And to that end, I have started a clear out that I have been promising myself for some time.   I went through my DVD collection quite ruthlessly - 'Are you ever going to watch seven series of West Wing again?'  No, so out they went along with other films I have acquired over the years.  I found a website which will buy DVDs and a whole pile went off.   A cheque for £65 is on its way to me as I write.   Helen and James were having a clear out too and I was donated another pile of DVDs, so they have also gone on the list. Then over 100 CDs have gone - I now have all of this on my iPod which I can play through my hi-fi so out they go and I have another £100 on its way to me.    Next up, are my old Beatle vinyl records which are going to be sorted this weekend.  

Have to say that it is difficult to keep clutter clear when one comes home after six weeks absence and finds this:

Not complaining, oh no, but I am working my way through these, putting to one side those I will be reading and reviewing and those I will not.   I work on the premise that when I request a book,I am entering into a verbal contract with the publisher who sent it to me and will make every attempt to post.   Others, which are sent to me unsolicited, I ferret through and pick those that look interesting and discard the rest.  Has taken me a while to put these into categories, I had 38 books awaiting me and, since I have been back, another 12 have arrived!

I will be posting about books received, those I am currently reading, and those I am looking forward to discovering over the next day or so, but must just mention that I am really enjoying the second book in the Sydney Chambers series by James Runcie and thanks again to Bloomsbury for sending it to me.   I have also started Capturing the Light 'a true story of genius, rivalry and the birth of photography' by Roger Watson and one of my favourite historians, Helen Rappaport.   It is shaping up nicely to be a really enjoyable book.

Despite the fact that it is tipping it down at the moment it is a wonderful thought that there is Test Match cricket and Wimbers to look forward to and, of course, the Proms.   Last night is going to be conducted by a woman conductor this year (YAY!) and John Wilson is there with another of his fascinating Hollywood music proms. BUT the highlight for me is that Barenboim is conducting his Ring cycle and guess who is Wotan? Yep, it is Bryn so I will be lashing out on a seat for that, if I can get one.   If I cannot then I can console myself with the thought that Sky Arts are showing a Wagner season starting in May and featuring the Met's Ring which, again, has the Mighty Bryn.    So lots to look forward to and let us hope for some sunshine and warmth.

Fingers crossed....

Children of the Archbishop - Norman Collins

Many many years ago, more than I care to remember, my mother, sister and I used to sit and listen to the Sunday afternoon serial on the radio, in those days it was the Light Station. Every week at 4.30pm a book was adapted and one of these that has remained in my mind very clearly was Children of the Archbishop by Norman Collins.   I remember borrowing the book after listening to the radio and being enthralled by the story.  Now over 45 years later I re-read it, courtesy of Bloomsbury (lovely peeps) on my Kindle while on my Australian visit and, as with the Lorimer Line which I reviewed earlier, was wondering how I would find it after all this time and slightly worried that it would seem dated and trivial.   Well, it wasn't and one rainy day when it was impossible to go out, Australian rain is something else, I stayed indoors and read and read and read and loved this book all over again.

The setting for this story is an orphanage, founded by an archbishop, and the prologue introduces us to various characters on the No 14 bus trundling through London.  Though we are given background on most of them these are shadowy figures we will never see again, save one, a young woman who leaves the bus and disappears into the fog to the orphanage where she leaves a bundle on the doorstep.   The baby is clearly loved and warm and the mother kisses the child before vanishing.  All that is left is this new born child with a label attached to the shawl saying "Sweetie".

And so Sweetie's life in the orphanage begins. The thing that struck me about it this time was that its staff and workers were positively Trollope. Pretty sure that Norman Collins must have been familiar with his works as some of the characters shrieked  Barchester Towers.  It is not a harsh place, no Dotheboys Hall here, the children are well cared for and it is run by the first of the Trollope figures - Canon Mallow.  He is definitely The Warden, Mr Harding, with his sweetness of nature and his kindness but slightly bumbling inefficiency. He loves all the children but he is soon to retire and his place is taken by a new appointee, Dr Samuel Trump who I immediately saw as the Dean in Barchester Towers.   He is determined that St Mark's will be run efficiently and on proper lines and is appalled at the inefficiency and disorganisation he sees before him.   At first the reader is encouraged to dislike Dr Trump but then we are privy to his inner thoughts and we realise that he is a good and well meaning man, nervous and worried that he will fail in his post, and we begin to warm to him.

The Children of the Archbishop follows the life of Sweetie and another little boy, a holy terror, Ginger, when they strike up a friendship. Ginger is a beguiling character, up to all sorts of mischief and tricks who even manages to climb over the wall at night and go 'up West' on forays into the big wide world.   He is the bane of Dr Trump's life as no amount of punishment or detentions seem to have any effect on him whatsoever and Sweetie, who has an adventurous streak in her as well, cause a lot of upset for the new Warden.

This story is full of the most wonderful characters: Dame Eleonor, one of the trustees of the Orphanage is Mrs Proudie to the life and at first we find her dislikeable but, as with Mrs Proudie, we come to understand her better as she has a hidden sorrow in her life; Mr Pretorius, the organist with a chequered past who has been kicked out of the church, has bits of Obadiah Slope in his make up though he too has a hidden life and then there is Mr Dawlish, shabby, ash all down his clothese, egg stains on his tie, who is the Rev Quiverful to the life. 

The Children of the Archbishop was written in 1951 and it has that immense readability that many of the Persephone published books of that period also display.   When reading I found it enormously comfortable and enjoyable to read - words that should apply to a book but nowadays are attributes somewhat despised - and found it had echoes of Richmal Crompton and Dorothy Whipple who, of course, were contemporaries with Collins. The reader plunges in, is taken along on an irresistible wave of sheer pleasure and I, for one, found it almost impossible to put it down until I had finished.

This was the only Collins I had ever read but after finishing I went online and found that Bloomsbury have other titles of this author on their ebooks list.   Having already begged for freebies to review my conscience smote me and I decided not to cadge again, but just to buy and I downloaded Anna, an Elizabeth von Arnim type book and a total contrast to Children, which I also enjoyed and which I will write about later.Bond Street Story which would make a wonderful TV series as it is set in a fictional department store (though with The Paradise and Mr Selfridge this has probably now been done to death). I then got hold of London Belongs to Me which I gather is regarded as his finest book and I finished that yesterday and will also review in due course.

It seems that Norman Collins, as well as writing over twenty successful books, worked for the BBC and was responsible for Dick Barton, Secret Agent, which I used to listen to and can even now remember the theme music.  His success as director of radio programmes led to him being appointed Controller of the BBC Television Services.   Goes without saying that he fell out with the Beeb when he was not given the promotion he deserved, and resigned.  Nothing changes there it seems. However, he certainly got his revenge - he went off to form the company ATV as he felt that the BBC's monopoly of television should be broken.   Collins became the deputy chairman of of ATV but, once again, did not get the top job. He came up against Lew Grade and anybody who remembers this redoubtable gentleman will understand why....

So once again I have rediscovered a book which I loved as a teenager and now love all over again and, what is more, discover more titles awaiting my attention.  I have simply loved reading Children of the Archbishop again, this time with new eyes and with a knowledge of Trollope which I did not possess before and which enhanced my enjoyment even more, and I am looking forward to reading more of Norman Collins.   I have learned my lesson however and will not be rushing through them but will take my time and savour them as there will be no more when I have read the lot.   No binge reading. Yes, well we shall see.

Please do try this book or any others by this author and, if you do, let me know what you think as I would love to find others who have enjoyed Collins.  Pretty sure there are lots of you out there...

Sir Colin Davis RIP

I was going to write about books today and get back into the flow of posting, but when I opened my laptop this morning it was to see the very sad news that Sir Colin Davis, the conductor, had died.   His beloved wife passed away a few years ago and it was clear that he missed her dreadfully and I felt that something had gone from him, the vital life force he always had was diminishing.    The last time I saw him conduct was at a Prom, it was a performance of the Missa Solemnis, which I think is the most glorious choral work ever composed, bar none, and I mean none, and he was sitting down looking very frail. The he lifted his baton, caught the eye of the leader of the orchestra, and a wonderful smile lit up his face and then off we went. A glorious performance as always.

I have loved Sir Colin since I first saw him at the Proms about forty or more years ago. He took over from Sir Malcolm Sargeant, a difficult act to follow and he was pretty acerbic in those days about the antics of some of the Prommers and was not at first universally loved.    But minds soon changed.    I remember one magical night, it was a Friday night and Friday night was always Beethoven night in those days, Sir Colin conducting a performance of the Beethoven Emperor concerto, the soloist being Stephen Bishop.   This concert has remained in my memory ever since as I was standing right down the front, leaning on the rail, and so close I could almost lean over and touch the podium.   It was a sublime performance and the silence in the hall during the slow movement was palpable.   Every now and then a performance you expect to be memorable suddenly transcends into something extra special. There is no explaining it. Mark Elder once discussed this during an interview and said there is no reason for it, but 'you raise your baton and suddenly you know this is going to be one of those times. The orchestra know it, I know it, the audience knows it and when it happens it is quite wonderful'.   I have been fortunate to have attened performances when this has happened and it is a feeling impossible to describe, and this particular night was one of them.

I have to mention the time that Patrick and I went to the Royal Festival Hall to hear Sir Colin conduct the Missa Solemnis. I had recently sung in a few performances and had spent months learning the music and it had entered my soul.   I was seven months pregnant with Kathryn and I remember resting my score on my bump as I followed the music. At the end of the Gloria when the choir let out the most stunning GLORIA and it crashed to an end, Kathryn kicked violently as she felt the sound and my score shot up in the air to be caught by me on its downward rush.   I have never forgotten that moment.

A wonderful wonderful conductor and human being and a marvellous musician.   I shall miss you dreadfully Sir Colin but glad you are with your beloved wife now.

And here is the link to an earlier post on Sir Colin and the Missa Solemnis.

http://randomjottings.typepad.com/random_jottings_of_an_ope/2011/09/missa-solemnis-at-the-proms.html

Books you cannot let go

This is a really entertaining and interesting article in the Guardian on the dilemma of sorting out books, which you keep and which you should throw out, and then the books that you keep for no sensible reason at all. We all have books which fall into this category and some of the comments underneath this column are witty and funny and very endearing.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2013/apr/09/books-you-cannot-let-go

I have books sitting on my shelves which I will never chuck out.   I have the original three part paperback edition of Delia Smith's How to Cook which I have had since the seventies. OK I also have a more up to date version and there is no earthly reason why I need to hang onto them, but I simply cannot bring myself to part with them.  Then there are my copies of the Adventure books by Enid Blyton (some with the original dustjackets as well) which I adore.   Would love to know what happened to my vast collection of Famous Five books by the same author, I have a feeling they were culled by my mother a long time back.

I also have at least four editions of LIttle Women, none of which I can bring myself to dispense with as they have different illustrators which I love.   One book I will never ever get rid of and that is The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge and the main reason for holding onto this edition is that it has the most wonderfully atmospheric and just RIGHT illustrations by C Walter Hodges which are enchanting.

And then I have a book about an imaginery opera singer, Lena Geyer by Marcia Davenport. I have no idea where this book came from and how long I have had it, but I simply love it and though I have yet to find anybody else who has read it, I will cling onto it.

What books do you hold onto because you simply cannot bear to get rid of them even though you may never read them again, but because they are linked to a memory of a time or a place in one's life?  

I would love to hear from you all.

Random Returns

Well I am back and it feels most odd being in my own little apartment again with all my things around me.  I feel a weird sense of dislocation and the fact that just two days ago I was living in Sydney in my daughter's house feels odd and unreal and already assuming a dreamlike quality.     Flight back was awful.   I had two stops which I had not realised until booking was complete, one was a touch down in Bangkok so we could stay on the plane if we wished and then onto Dubai.   I was on that plane for 13 hours and awake for most of it as I was incredibly cramped and uncomfortable and I simply could not get to sleep. I was surrounded by passengers who seemed to have no trouble scoffing down their meals and then keeling over for hours, I find I am totally unable to do so and the time crawls along.   Normally on planes I also find it rather cool, but not this time, it was very warm and close and the air not good.

We arrived in Dubai over an hour late and I had precisely 45 minutes to hotfoot it from Dubai arrivals to Dubai departures.   Now Dubai is a super duper new airport, state of the art and immaculate but it is HUGE.   On leaving the place I walked along endless corridors to the transfer section, found that I needed to be at Gate A7 and set off.    Went through security and followed signs and I walked and walked and walked and walked. I traversed at least five down escalators and then along more corridors until I picked up a train which took me along to the A gates.   Nearly there I thought. Wrong.   More miles of walking until I found my gate. Went through under the false impression I had arrived only to find I had to go down another three escalators and then was put on a bus, along with other exhausted passengers and driven to the plane which took fifteen minutes. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get there. Then had to climb up the stairs onto the plane for another 8 hours of cramping boredom.    I am not sure if I can put myself through this length of flight again in economy as I was wiped out by the time I arrived home.

Still, I am here now and very glad to be able to relax and rest. I keep keeling over at odd moments when tiredness overwhelms me and know it will take me a day or two to get back into the swing of things.  My lovely neighbours, Gary and Alison, looked after my flat for me while I was away and when I arrived this morning, it was lovely and warm, the curtains had been drawn back, there was a pint of milk in the fridge and a bunch of carnations in a jug on my kitchen window.   Wonderful.

I spent a happy hour going through my post and found that 35 books had been delivered while I was away. It is going to take time to get this lot sorted so all nice publishers out there who I love dearly, please bear with me for a bit while I unscramble my brain and get back into the old routine.   

Au reservoir and it is good to be back with you all.

Random Reading in Oz

I understand from my good neighbours who are keeping an eye on my flat for me, that I have a vast amount of mail and lots of parcels awaiting my return so am looking forward to opening them and seeing what goodies have been sent to me.   Nearly all of my reading while I have been away has been on my Kindle which I simply could not now manage without.  I have been reading a lot of thrillers and What I Call Beach Reads and not really stretching my mind too much.   Kathryn gave me four books which she had in her library by an American writer called David Hosp which she thought I might like. Set in Boston, usual characters and usual suspects, but well written, exciting and well plotted and loved them all and read them all in four days.  I now await the author's next tome in the series.   

Then in Vanuatu when it was so hot and humid that any thought of serious mental activity was totally beyond me, I read about ten Jack Reacher books by Lee Childs.   They were all on my Kindle from the last time I discovered him and as they are all the same and I had forgotten every single one of them, I was able to re-read them with great enjoyment.   No doubt in about eighteen months time when I visit Australia again, I will do the same......

One writer who I have rediscovered while on my Antipodean trip is Norman Collins and, once again, I am thanking Bloomsbury e reader for this.    I reacquainted myself with Children of the Archbishop and had forgotten just how simply wonderful it was and how much I had enjoyed it. I then downloaded Anna, am now half way through Bond Street Story and have London Belongs to me also safely on my Kindle.   I will be writing more fully about this author and his books when I return and am looking forward to catching up on everything.    Tomorrow is my last day in Australia and I am going to troll down to Paddington and revisit three excellent bookshops, all of which are in a radius of 100 yards of each other, check out their second hand stock again, have a coffee and a Danish and relax. My flight is in the evening and am not looking forward to that at all, but there is no escape from the cramped seat, the ghastly food and the boredom of it all.    However, I will check out which is the longest of the movies on offer and watch one or two and, hopefully, stupify myself into a state of mindless boredom which will enable me to sleep. We shall see.    Random is nearly back.