Nothing to read

Seeing this shelf of books reminds me of a game I played when I was small, when I would whinge to my Mum about having nothing to read.  Of course, it was no more true then as it is today.  I was a bookworm and devoured books from the library as well as those bought for me by my parents, who enjoyed nothing more than seeing me with my head in a book.  But I would go on whingeing until Mummy stopped what she was doing and went to the bookshelf to go through every book in turn with the same question:

“How about “The Chalet School Triplets”?”

“I’ve read it”

“How about “Upper Fourth at Malory Towers”?

“I’ve grown out of Enid Blyton”

“I don’t think you’ve read “Ballet Shoes” yet have you…?”   and so on.  Of course, I had an answer for them all and simply enjoyed the attention, the fact that we both knew it was a game and having reached the end of the bookshelf, I’d settle for one of the first ones she’d mentioned.  Bless her…she always played along, always had the patience to go through every book in turn, with full knowledge that we’d have to reach the end of the shelf before I was satisfied.

So, looking at my shelf today, thinking that I’d spend this a Sunday afternoon with a book, I find myself going through the same process myself.  The thing is, I begin with the certain knowledge that I’ve not read any of these, even if I have made a half-hearted start on a couple.  The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was my last book group choice, but I couldn’t make the meeting and though I took it to Suffolk with me, I didn’t get past the first twenty pages or so.  I have been dipping in and out of The Girl on the Wall for it’s an easy read in short bursts.  But the book itself is incredibly heavy, making it a difficult one to carry out in my bag or to read in bed.  The Very Thought of You is my next book group choice and so there’s pressure to read that one soon, but the Margaret Forster Isa and May is so very tempting.  As is the new Bill Bryson, which I dipped into in a few places before bringing it home with me, half price from Waterstones and even cheaper than that when I discovered I had more than £5 on my point card.

Then, my friend Olga was reading Alone in Berlin and, having read another Fallada classic “Kleiner Mann was nun?” auf Deutsch when I did that kind of thing, I added it to my pile.  That was before I read the review that ended “Alone in Berlin is an exhausting book, gruesome and harrowing, but as morally powerful as anything I’ve ever read.”  Hmm.  Perhaps not a Sunday afternoon read?

And so it goes.  Brooklyn came via my good friend Mary, having been highly recommended by  Jordi who somehow finds time to read erudite novels and knit the most amazing socks.  The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society found its way to my shelf by a similar transatlantic route and the Per Pettersens arrived as part of my Scandinavian jag last Summer.

But, true to type, having gone through the whole shelf, I remember that I’m actually quite enjoying the Kiran Desai right now and had forgotten all about it, having left it on the kitchen table where it became covered with the usual clutter of everyday life. 

Now, the next decision is what to take on holiday with me later this week?  Will it be two or three short, reliable, easy reads or a single weighty tome to get my teeth into?  I’m thinking AS Byatt, maybe?

Strictly

Much as we enjoy any excuse to explore a different part of the country, a real reason is needed.  As last year, the reason was the Suffolk Show.

In particular, the WI marquee where some amazing exhibits were awaiting my judgement!

Since receiving the schedule and the invitation to judge the competition some time ago, I’ve been giving it some thought.  The challenge was to create “a pair of dancers,free standing and self-supporting”, “at least 80% recycled materials”, “no larger than life sized” and “displayed in a floor space of 5ft square”.

If I were a Suffolk member, what would my entry look like, I wonder?

I considered a skeleton frame constructed of plastic lemonade bottles, wire armatures and papier mache heads.  I envisaged the difficulties of transporting these figures to the showground; perhaps standing up through the sunroof, Antiques Roadshow style.  Or maybe laid out in a van, like a couple of corpses?

Everyone I mentioned this to raised an eyebrow and couldn’t wait to see what the clever members of Suffolk East would create.

Yes, there’s the wire armature in a really striking pose!

Oh, and screwing wellie boots to the base was a great way of getting the stuffed figures to stand upright.  Very clever.

Boris Johnson had a most elegant polystyrene partner, with colour co-ordinated fingernails to match her dress, his cufflinks, buttons and bow tie.  What details!

But look.  How clever is this?

Basil and Sybil (their names explained on a card nearby) a lively papier mache couple were dancing their socks off, with soft leather shoes and flyaway hair.

There were others too: a very elegant couple who looked as though they had stepped right out of Harrods window, a pair of ballet dancers and a military gentleman who seemed to be having some difficulties persuading his lady to join him on the dance floor.  All life size, all beautifully made according to schedule and leaving this particular judge quite amazed.

Visual Impact?  100% all round!! 

The gasmen cometh and we’re off again

That’s right – gasmen in the plural.  While one sprawled over the kitchen floor to fix a leaky fridge, another worked upstairs to get our bathroom radiator working again.  Yes, I know it’s too warm to have heating on, but oh my, we love to reach for a warm towel after a shower!

Anyway, I now know what the floor looks like under the fridge:  Not quite as embarrassing now as it was then.

So, no sooner had we arrived home from London, caught up with the washing and so on, then we were off again.  This time, to Suffolk.

via Waddesdon Manor.

The huge number of turrets, chimneys and twisty downpipes are intriguing and on a bright sunny Sunday morning of a bank holiday weekend, we weren’t the only ones here, as you can imagine.

We were lucky, though, and managed a couple of tickets for the house with no wait whatsoever.

But no time to linger, for our place in Ipswich awaited us.

Last time we were here, we explored the coast so this time, we ventured inland, firstly to Ickworth

We enjoyed learning a little about the Hervey family, but the unexpected bonus of the day was finding the answer to why so many hotels are called Bristol.

Whilst there, we spotted a pretty impractical teacup and saucer and the hand of another lady artist.

One for the collection.