Bellringing (tower-spotting?)

I really do mean for this to be more than a once-a-week blog. Work has been insanely busy lately, but in a good way. It's meant that I've been sleeping insane amounts - all I want to do when I get home is eat dinner and crawl into bed!

I had an uber-productive day yesterday - we rode our bikes to the farm shop for some groceries, did 3 loads of laundry (2 of which were dried on the washing line), and then spent the afternoon on a bell outing, "tower-grabbing".

Here's a screenshot of the word document that we got. The open day started at 9am, but it was mostly local towers that I'd already rung in (or will probably ring in soon). The left two columns are the opening times, the number in the 4th column is how many bells there are, the fifth column has the map reference, and the all-important 6th column is T for Toilet. Not all churches have toilets, I have discovered.

It was my first tower-grabbing day (which is quite like trainspotting: you drive somewhere, check off the sighting/activity, and then rush off to the next place), and it was a little bit manic. People truly rush from one tower to the next, ring whatever the least-experienced band member can ring, and then leap back into the car. Madness.

Offton:

Bramford:

 

Sproughton:

Kersey (we skipped Elmsett):

 

Monks Eleigh:

 

Bildeston:

 

And, on the way home, Buxhall. I ring at Buxhall every other Tuesday, so it was nice to finish off the day at one of my home towers. Even though I had to pay £1 to ring called changes.

More blisters

On a recommendation from a friend, I read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It is written entirely in letters and notes from the various characters to each other, which worried me a little at the beginning. I really enjoyed it, though. It reminded me a little bit of the McCall Smith set at the same time period (La's Orchestra Saves The World), and was an engrossing and reasonably quick read.

I spent all day yesterday on an outing to Norfolk with the Ladies' Guild of Change Ringers (Eastern District). I'm now officially a member (and have ordered my LG rugby shirt to prove it). It was a really fun day out: we rang at 3 towers, had a pub lunch, and even the meeting that I attended wasn't as bad as I was expecting.

This is a picture of Brooke church - it had a somewhat exciting circular tower with not a lot of room for people to stand. The tenor rope seemed to be suspended over the stairwell when we first arrived, and then I realised that there was a platform that folded down over the stairs for the tenor ringer to stand on. I rang the tenor for some Stedman doubles, and standing on the little platform, seemingly suspended in midair, gave me seriously wobbly knees. I was only about 4 feet off the ground (and only in one direction - I was level with the floor on 3 sides), but it was enough for me. The ringers said they've never had anyone fall off, which I guess is good!

We left before the 4th tower to come back to Suffolk to ring a quarter peal in Woolpit. It went really well until about 35 minutes in, when my blister decided it had had enough. It's nowhere near as bad as the last one I had, though, and we made it all the way through. I can't imagine how I'm ever going to get through a full peal (3+ hours, nonstop) if I keep getting blisters ringing quarters.

Here's another picture from Dad's scanning project - I think that's the same concentration face I make when I'm ringing bells!

Do I get to be a vampire now? How 'bout now?

I started Breaking Dawn on Wednesday morning, and finished it on Friday evening. AND I was out on Wedensday evening and didn't get any reading time. It's my favorite of the series - Bella really grows into herself and I loved the Jacob-Edward dynamic.

I found all four books to be quite cinematic - reading them was not so much "sitting on the couch/at my desk/on the bed reading" as "this is all just sort of happening in my head." It was kind of a bizarre sensation, and led to some abrupt transitions back to reality when I picked my head up from the book. "Wait, where'd the vampires go?" I think the last book that I really wanted to be IN was The Penderwicks, and before that, Harry Potter. Hmm...I'm trying to think of any grown-up books that I've wanted to be in. Possibly one of Alexander McCall Smith's Edinburgh books, but not to the same extent.

We did some weeding and general garden tidying yesterday, and I decided that the daffodils were being TOO SLOW in the front yard and we needed some color. I think these do the job! I've also put down some Blue Slug Poison Pellets of Death.

The little eco-warrior in me is v. sad about doing it, but the gardener and person who wants to actually EAT the fruits of the plants that I grow has won. The slugs were entirely evil last year, and grew to somewhat epic proportions. So, Blue Death it is...

My dad has been scanning old slides and photographs, and this is one of my favorites from the recent batch. Judging by our sizes, this picture is from the summer of 1987, taken at the Garden City pool (where my mom used to be a lifeguard).

I don't know what little Edward is plotting, but it's not good. I don't think I was plotting anything - I just look cold. And I remember that bathing suit - it went from being too big to all stretched out and droopy. It clearly traumatised 6-year-old me.

The Garden City pool was awesome - it used to have a bunch of diving boards at the deep end of the HUGE main pool, which of course have now been removed and replaced with 'safe' slides. Bah. What's fun about summer if you can't fling yourself off the 5 meter platform and be scared out of your mind (and get water up your nose)?

[Edit: I don't know what's the matter with the line spacing in these posts, but pictures seem to mess it up and I can't seem to fix it. Suggestions gladly taken.]

First flower and a little light crafting

Here is the first outdoor flower of the year (in our garden, anyway). Pardon the focus issues - I took the picture with my iPhone.

It's a dwarf daffodil, although it looks more like a yellow snowdrop in this picture. The regular daffs are very nearly open and the tulips have started popping up through the dirt. WOOT!

I have some crafting to report. I bought a very cute, cream cable-knit turtleneck sweater from J.Crew, about 5 years ago. And had washed it in woolite a few times. Not a problem.

For some reason, I decided a few weeks ago to wash it in woolite using the cold, delicates cycle in the washing machine. BAD idea. The sweater didn't shrink as much as if I'd put it in the dryer, but it was definitely too small. And it was a little short to begin with. Result: unwearable.

It doesn't look so bad in this picture, but the pillow form is pretty small. And my torso is kind of long. And my muffin-top does NOT benefit from short sweaters.

So, before:

And, after!

The button is wooden, which I really like, and since my sewing machine (kick-ass antique Singer Featherweight) doesn't do zig-zag, there's no buttonhole. It's all just sewn together. I can clip the threads and re-sew the button if I need to (hand) wash the sweater-pillow.

It's getting lighter...

For the last few days I've really felt like spring is coming. When I woke up this morning at 6:30 there was light. In the sky. And then today, when we were driving home from work at 5:30, there it was again. Light...in the sky.

Exhibit B: the daffodils in the front yard that James and I planted last fall are coming up. No flowers yet, but plenty of leggy looking stems and general excitement.

I even rang St. Simon's "inside" last night at bells, not that it has anything to do with spring. I managed the bobs with a little help from a copilot (who was also ringing so wasn't copiloting all that much). And when I made the mistakes I knew that I'd made them, which is definitely an improvement to stumbling along blindly. Apparently my next task is to "think one pull ahead." Yeah, right.

Coveting: Bike Hod

This was my breakfast last weekend: a bacon and egg sandwich, grapefruit juice, and Eclipse. Heaven. We don't usually have bacon at breakfast, but there was some left over from a Valentine's Edition of Leek and Potato Pie the night before.

We had a v. chill V. Day - I rang bells for two weddings (and earned £30), and then had dinner in. I came across the world's most unfortunate bridesmaid's dress at one of the weddings - it was a strapless number worn by a 4ft x 4ft bridesmaid and there was some overspill at the back. And not just a little. MY EYES! A perfect place to use the only Dutch phrase that our family retained from my Mom's "Learn Dutch On Tape" course in the '90s: "het is geen mooi zicht." (For the non-Dutch speakers in the room: "It is not a pretty sight.)

James and I went to see Bolt today - it was really cute and had some laugh-out-loud moments. Very Pixar, and very well put-together. We inadvertently went to the 3-D version, which was very clever and zoom-y (not a word, but you get the idea). However, both of us were ready for it NOT to be 3-D about 2/3 of the way through - the glasses were a little uncomfortable. Here they are in all their Disnificated glory.

We stopped at Waitrose to pick up some groceries on the way home. This bike was parked in the entrance. It turns out that they're launching a new scheme where you can sign up to borrow one of these to do your shopping. COOL. I'm not 100% clear on how long you can keep it (i.e. do you have to run your shopping home and then bring it right back or are you the temporary owner or what? The press release is here and doesn't really explain. A little googling has found the supplier company: they are called Bike-Hod. WANT. ONE. OF. THOSE. But £275 is steep!

I should start a BikeHod fund and put spare change in it. In the spring/summer/fall we like to do most of our shopping at the farm shop, about 4 miles away, and we've found that we usually have a bit more in the way of groceries than we can sensibly carry on the bikes. This would totally solve the problem.

Popcorn + stove = love

I was craving popcorn the other day - we'd bought some kernels but I hadn't really gotten around to making any. I looked on the web for microwave instructions, which all required a paper bag (didn't have one). So I grumbled briefly and found some instructions for popcorn on the stove.

Um, why did people stop doing it this way? And why did I eat microwave popcorn all through high school? (College, I understand - we didn't have a stove in our dorm room). And why did I eat microwave popcorn in my apartment in NY? And why have I not made it at home before now?

It was SO easy - it took me longer to eat the popcorn than it did to make it and do the washing up. I used our smallest pan, covered the bottom with olive oil, dumped a v. small handful (maybe about 30 kernels) into the pan, and turned the flame up to high. ::pop:: ::pop::  ...  ...  ::pop pop pop pop pop pop::  ...  ::pop::

All done! I shook the pan, dumped the contents into a bowl, put salt on it, and my craving was completely satisfied.

The advantages that I could see:
1. No greasy, gross "I made microwave popcorn" smell
2. No evil chemicals
3. It was FASTER than in the microwave
4. I only made as much as I wanted
5. I didn't feel ill after eating an entire bag of microwave popcorn by myself. Never done that. Nope, not me. Ever. Well, maybe, once or twice...

Anybody want to come over and watch a movie? I'll make the popcorn!

I also 'sperimented with a new recipe - Spiced Vegetable Couscous. I didn't have (and couldn't find) ras-el-hanout, so I used harissa instead. It was super-tasty, and we all felt very virtuous afterwards. If you make it, use the yoghurt - John didn't have any on his and he said that it needed a little zip. I'd never had harissa before - it's really tasty. I have quite a bit of it left, too, so I think some Prawn & Harissa Stew with Couscous might be in our future.

While not messing about with the stove, I've been reading New Moon and Eclipse, the two sequels to Twilight. I had intended to space them out a little bit, and even went as far as starting another (non-vampire) book, but I couldn't fight it. I caved and read them both. I can't figure out what it is that's so compelling - the writing is not particularly stellar; the story is girl loves vampire, vampire loves girl, girl and vampire struggle with teenage angst and impending doom. So why is it so addictive? I have no idea, and I'm not going to worry about it too much. But I AM going to go to a book store at the next opportunity and buy Breaking Dawn. And try not to read it in one sitting. Ahem.

Whatever bug I had back in January doesn't seem to have fully gone away. Either that, or the antibiotics they used caused a related and equally fun set of symptoms. Lovely. I've seen another doctor and we added a few more things to the long list of diseases/conditions/ailments that I don't have. They've sent off for some labwork to be done, and I'm the proud owner of a bottle of probiotic pills. Yummy. I don't particularly want to be told I have some evil (or even non-evil) disease, but I'm tired of my Mystery Ailment. When I first arrived in the UK, I broke out in a rash that the doctors were baffled by - we referred to it as Stowmarket-itis. I think this might be a variant...possibly Stowmarket-algia.

Between Vampire Books...

We went to Ipswich to buy James the next "39 Clues" book. He LOVED the first one and has finished The Graveyard Book (and declared it his favourite). While we were there, I...erm...took advantage of the 3 for 2 offer to buy Twilight and Eclipse (John got a book, too). My friend M. has lent me New Moon, which is sitting at the post office, waiting for me to pick it up (tomorrow morning). Before I can start it, though, I'm in the middle of another Elizabeth Goudge, The White Witch. It's the first of her books that I've seen from the library in an edition printed since 1985. And it's my least favourite so far. It's all English Civil War-y and there's too much HAPPENING for it to be proper Goudge.

In any event, I feel like I need to finish it before I can start on New Moon, and then I have a Diana Gabaldon from the library that's already been reserved by someone else and can't be renewed. It's a hefty tome - I might not have time to finish it by the deadline in any event. I guess I can always return it and re-reserve it if I like the beginning.

While driving the other day, I saw a poster for The Secret of Moonacre, which is an adaptation of The Little White Horse. Supposedly one of J.K. Rowling's favourite books, it's the first Goudge I read, and one of the best. I'm not sure the movie's going to be able to do the book justice - I have to decide if I want to see it or not.

I rang a quarter peal with most of the usual suspects on Saturday morning, and there was something about the tail-end of my bell's rope that gave me an unbelievable blister. It formed during the first 10 minutes of the QP, and then lasted for another 5 or so before things got a little messy. To the next person to ring the treble at Finborough: I'm sorry. And yes, that is blood.

But we got through it. I've been using bandaids like they're going out of style. And thankfully I'm not ringing tomorrow night, so I have until Saturday for it to heal. Folk remedies gladly accepted.

LOLRufus

My dad took a great picture of Rrufus, playing in the snow. So I made it into a LOL Dog. The pic links to the LOLDOGS site. Teehee.


moar funny pictures

Builder's Breakfast

It's winter. Which means that it feels like the only things I ever do (and then consequently blog about) are read, watch movies, cook and ring bells. I have been doing some crafting as well, but the end product is a new-baby gift for a friend who reads the blog so I can't post about it until I've given it to her. Which looks like it will be some time in June when I'm in NY (as it's not something I want to trust to the postal system).

 

I did some secondary crafting as well - I made this hat a few years ago without checking my gauge. Which was dumb. It was HUGE. I then made a second one (on smaller needles with fewer stitches) that fit perfectly. One of the ringers complemented me on it, and said that she had a huge head that never fit hats. I told her that the hat I was wearing had a big brother that she was welcome to. It was too big for her, but she decided to felt it. It's now the perfect size, super warm, and v. cute. Why didn't I think of that?

 

We've had quite a bit of snow this week, which of course has paralysed the British transportation infrastructure. The newspapers were all shrieking midweek that the Highway Agency was in danger of running out of road salt. Cue the hand-wringing!

Last thing: I snapped this picture at work - Walkers are running a promo to find a new flavo(u)r, and this is one of them. What will they think of next? Strangely enough, some of the flavors in the promo (Onion Bhaji, Hoisin Duck) don't seem all that off-the-wall compared to the other odd-flavored potato chips that Brits eat. Cajun Squirrel takes the cake (but we didn't have a box in the canteen so you'll have to make do with Builder's Breakfast.

OMG I'm a teenager again! LOL.

There's no hope for me now. I finally managed to get to the front of the library queue for Twilight and my copy came in last weekend. I was a little apprehensive - I'd heard some mixed reviews and I was definitely NOT into Buffy in high school.

I shouldn't have worried - within about 20 pages I was completely hooked. It was the most absorbing book I've read in quite some time - I found that vast chunks of time would just slide right by as I was reading. I think the "date in the forest" scene has become my favorite book-date scene - I can't think of any that I like better.

I (along with the rest of the female population of Earth) now have a book-crush on Edward. I think the last literary character that made me want to jump into the book was Lupin (Tonks has the right idea), and before that, Logan from the Babysitters Club. The whole thing made me feel 16 again. I was a huge dork in high school - I knew all the 'cool' kids but never really got to hang out with them. Maybe I should have moved to Forks.

To continue the madness, we saw the movie at the Stowmarket cinema on Saturday night. I don't remember Robert Pattinson being particularly compelling in the Harry Potter movies, but he was completely captivating (and indecently attractive) in Twilight. Granted, Cedric Diggory is one of J.K. Rowling's flatter characters, so he didn't have much to work with in HP. His American accent in Twilight was AWFUL, though - I'm not sure why they didn't just leave him with his normal Brit voice. There were very few replacements of scenes from the books with unrelated 'movie' scenes, which I appreciated. (Do you hear me, directors of His Dark Materials and Harry Potter?).

I also need everyone to acknowledge how hip (and ahead of their time) my parents were: my brother's name is Edward and my middle name is Isabel. After 25 (and 27) years, our names are now cool.

I've joined the seemingly interminable queue for New Moon at the library, although I may just cave and buy the whole series. I think I feel a re-read coming on.

Movies

Before I got sick, John and I rented WALL-E and Couscous from Blockbuster. I really liked WALL-E (I missed it when it was in theatres) but I think I fell victim to over-hyping. Yes, it was really clever, and super cute. And I found the lifestyle on the planet where the humans retreat to be bizarrely attractive. Does that make me a bad person? But I'd been told that it was the BEST. MOVIE. EVER. I'd put it in my top 50, anyway.

 

Couscous is a French movie about an immigrant family (subtitle alert!). John picked it up on the strength of the DVD promo - it was billed as "one of the best food scenes ever captured on film". The first half of the movie was brilliant - quick dialogue, yummy-looking food, great acting, and general enjoyableness. And then, at about the 90 minute mark, the plot just sort of stopped. And there was another hour to go. We kept waiting for something to happen (along with the characters in the movie, which in hindsight was quite clever). And then, after much fast-forwarding, there was an exceedingly abrupt ending and the credits rolled. John and I were really disappointed.

 

If you watch it, enjoy the first half, then turn it off when they get to the restaurant. Then email me and I'll tell you the ending. You'll save at least an hour of your life. The more I think back on it, the more it makes sense in terms of the 'artistry' of the film - you find yourself waiting impatiently (and bored) along with the characters. But it's like watching paint dry.

Lightbulbs

While I was recuperating, I read The Mists of Avalon which is apparently the classic feminist Arthurian epic. Somewhat of a narrowly defined genre, but there we go. I liked it, although I started to lose steam somewhere around page 950. Of 1008 (at least in the edition I was reading). I considered giving up, but decided that abandoning at the 950 page mark would be like running a marathon to mile 25 and then stopping because I was bored. Overall, it was enjoyable, and it was much appreciated while I was too zonked to do anything besides sleep and read (couch...bed...couch...chair...bed...etc). I'm not sure I'm going to embark on the rest of the series, though.

 

When I checked in to the hospital, I was in the middle of the latest instalment of the 44 Scotland Street books by Alexander McCall Smith, The Unbearable Lightness of Scones. It was PERFECT for reading in the hospital - short, choppy chapters, not too much to ponder, enough witty McCallSmithisims to make me chuckle. I even read it at 3am while having antibiotics delivered through an I.V. drip (I couldn't sleep). 

 

The only problem was that I finished it mid-morning and was left with nothing to read. I went down to the hospital bookstore and bought a Maeve Binchy Christmas Short Story Extravaganza (I didn't realize it was a Christmas-themed collection of short stories - I thought it was just a normal potboiler. It was syrupy and dreadful.) and a Kate Atkinson book. Before I realized that I HATED the last Kate Atkinson I read. EPIC FAIL. Blame my weakened state. Both books were...er...donated to the hospital when I left.

Since getting out of the hospital, I've done lots of ringing: last night I rang another quarter peal (my third - WOOT!) at Earl Stonham. On the treble again - I think I'm going to be 'blowing behind' for my next QP attempt and then after that I'll move to the great lands of Ringing Inside. I am also the proud owner of a Suffolk Guild of Ringer badge. I have to figure out where to pin it - I'm afraid if I put it on my coat that I'll lose it. Tonight there were only 8 of us at Old Newton, so I got to ring some Bob Doubles, have my first go at calling Bob Doubles, and have another stab at St. Simons. Two methods down, thousands more to go. Speaking of, a few bell ringers have reported that they've 'discovered' the blog, while googling for "Buxhall church" and "ringing". Yep, that'll bring you here...hi guys!!

My sweater is coming along - there was a bit of unravelling to be done after I realized I'd messed up part of the pattern. "Count stitches, place marker, purl, etc..." 

"Hmm, that's funny," I thought. "Wonder what that's for. Oh well, I'll just carry on." And then I looked at the picture. ::Lightbulb:: "Ooooohhh...that's what I was supposed to be doing. Bother!" ::Epic unwinding::  It's all sorted now, although the back panel which was finished is now not. Front left is sorted, though.

Obama and the NHS

I got to watch the inauguration, live on TV. But not quite from where I'd expected to be.

On Sunday night, I started feeling really achy and tired, and I stayed home from work on Monday and slept all day. I had fairly intense abdominal pain, and we called the doctor at around 8 on Monday night. They wanted to take a look at me, so John and I went to Bury Hospital, where I ended up spending the night. They were incredibly nice - everyone was welcoming and comforting and seemed eager to get me sorted out as quickly as possible.

They'd come to the conclusion that I had either appendicitis or gall stones, and so kept me on a clear-liquids diet with an antibiotic drip. When I went for my scan, my appendix (and gall bladder and liver and various other parts) were all showing as normal, so they gave me a bit of supper and we all waited to see what would happen. The docs then decided that whatever I'd had was on its way out (probably as a result of the nuclear antibiotics that I was on), and that I could go home.

I've been resting at home since then - I keep getting visions of adventures like walking around the block or making some soup, but I seem to still be at the stage where the only thing I need after my nap is another nap. I'm incredibly thankful for all the fab staff at the Bury hospital, especially all the doctors and nurses on the F6 ward - although I was definitely glad to come home. My experience with the much whinged-about NHS was entirely positive - I was in a room with 5 other women in a mixed ward and everything was clean and bright and well taken care of. The food was...er...hospital food, but that's to be expected.

And, I had my own TV (with headphones), so I got to watch the inauguration from the comfort of my bed.

Long lost Herd

We had lunch with F and T yesterday. They'd been to see some other relatives last weekend, who had been sorting through various family things. Among the items was this memorial for Robert Herd, who by his birth date would appear to have been John's great uncle. Not 100% sure - he's never been mentioned before. He's definitely family, though - the picture of him in his uniform could very easily be a picture of Travis. They also have the hat that he's wearing in the picture, which was returned to his parents with his dog tags.

As you can see, he was killed (at 21) in the Great War, but apparently did quite a bit of fighting before that point.

[There are actually 3 Herds in the picture - Robert, me (bottom left) and Travis (plaid shirt, bottom right).]

Here's a closeup of the inscription:

It's really thought-provoking - he looks so young. One of the other things in the packet was the newspaper page where his obituary was listed - everyone on the page was "son" or "brother" and most of them were around the same age as Robert.

I was going to write about some other stuff but it all sounds a bit trite - I'll post again tomorrow or later in the week.

Roasted Broccoli & Shrimp

The New York Times recipe for roasted broccoli with shrimp has been marinating in my brain since I read the article on Wednesday. I tackled it tonight - it was super easy and came out looking exactly like the picture. We didn't have coriander seeds so I used ground coriander, and I used more mild chili powder rather than a little bit of hot. I also made rice to go with it, rather than crusty bread.

And yes, I've stolen their picture. But mine looked almost exactly like that. And I've linked to the article. Except that I forgot to put lemon on it (we didn't have any). We didn't really miss the lemon, though.

It was really tasty - there were spicy bites and not so spicy bites, and while I normally leave salt & pepper out when I'm cooking, I think I'll put them in when I make this next time. And up the cumin seeds a tiny bit.

Mmmm.

I've finished The Middle Window - it was fine but not particularly memorable. Some time-slipping, Scotland in the 19th and 17th centuries, and a 'you know what's going to happen because of flashbacks' kind of plot. Not my fave Elizabeth Goudge, but the first of hers that I haven't LOVED. Not a bad track record, really.

I had an email from the library today - my long awaited copy of Twilight is in. I can now join the legions of teenyboppers swooning over a vampire. Hot.

I'm in a Guild now

When I think of guilds, I think of cobblers bent over workbenches in grimy, medieval London. Or maybe stonecutters or masons working on a Cathedral. Ok, maybe I've been reading too much Ken Follet.

So...drumroll, please...I'm now officially a member of the Suffolk Guild of Ringers. I get a newsletter and a shiny badge to pin on my pyjamas. WOOT!

I'm also sharing the tower's subscription to Ringing World, which is "the weekly journal for Church Bell Ringers since 1911." It's more entertaining than it sounds - this week's issue features some letters in response to a somewhat vitriolic article (which I didn't read) in last week's issue. This makes the NYT letters page look tame - this is not a group that holds back! In addition, there was an exceedingly pedantic letter correcting an article that had reported that a bell was stored in a "garden shed" when in fact it was stored in a "bicycle shed". C'mon people, get your sheds straightened out!

Ok, I'm a dork. Although if you've been reading this blog for more than...er...a week, you knew that already!

Pirates, Buttons, Cairns and Whos

After the fabulousness that was The Graveyard Book, I've had a few clunkers.

I attempted to read "The Pirate's Daughter", a fictional account of Errol Flynn's escapades in Jamaica in the middle of the 20th century, by Margaret Cezair-Thompson. I should have read the New York Times review first. The characters were flat and uninspiring, and while the story was mostly believable, I gave up a little over half-way through.

Basic plot summary: Flynn indulges himself and the girl who has had a crush on him for years by sleeping with her, and then ignores her once she becomes pregnant. The first part of the book is leading up to this, and then moves on to what happens to the girl (and the baby). By that point I'd stopped caring. Errol Flynn is a distinctly unsympathetic character, and the girl isn't really bright enough to make smart choices. It was a Richard and Judy Summer Read, which should have meant that it was a swashbuckling romance (which is what it said on the cover). My overall impression was 'mundane soap-opera', sadly. Feel free to correct me if you've read it and it improves in the second half!

On the recommendation of some interwebbies, I got another of Neil Gaiman's YA books from the library: Coraline. It's about a girl who gets fed up with her parents and ends up getting going into a parallel world, where she has to destroy the universe's 'Other Mother' and save her real parents. I didn't think it was as well thought-out as the Graveyard Book, and I'm not going to put it in James' "to read" queue (he loves Graveyard, btw), but it wasn't bad. [Update, after writing this I've found the trailer/website for the new Coraline movie (warning - sound) and it looks much better than the book!]

I'm reading Elizabeth Goudge's "Middle Window" and had a funny thing happen. About 10 pages into the book, "Sarah" is introduced as the main character's "black Cairn". Her introduction comes with the description that she had 'eloped with the butcher's boy for 4 days' and had only just been found and brought back. Somehow this caused me to assume that a Cairn was some kind of turn-of-the-century English word for a particular type of maid. There is a brief mention of how she'd spent a lot of time eating sausages and was feeling rather worse-off for it, which is followed by a scene where she snuggles up to the main character's fiance during a long and dull car journey, both of which I thought were a little odd.

And then, somewhere around page 60 (while I was wondering where this mysterious black servant had gone to), Sarah appears again, curled up in a ball on the foot of the main character's bed, dreaming of chasing rabbits and as a result, emitting muffled barks in her sleep. "Ok," I thought, "this is one weird servant...WAIT A MINUTE...(madly flipping pages)...she's a DOG!"

For those of you who don't know, this is a cairn terrier. I think it was the use of the word 'eloped' that got me.

***

To get my David Tennant fix while Dr. Who is on hiatus, I rented the 2005 BBC "Casanova", an exceedingly camp miniseries about the famous Italian. As it was written by Russell T. Davies (who has also written the latest series of Dr. Who), I think I was expecting Dr. Who minus the aliens and with a bit more romance. It was...er...not that. I agree with some reviews on IMDB that the music was quite annoying - it seemed to be accentuating the camp-ness of the movie while not actually adding to it. And DT does NOT look hot with a mullet. REALLY not hot. Peter O'Toole was enjoyable as the Older Casanova, but I had trouble connecting the two Casanovas together. The miniseries was enjoyable, though, although I'm glad of several things:

1. I did not have to watch it with my parents (I love you Mom & Dad, but it would have been weird)

2. I did not have to watch it with commercials

3. I had my knitting (and am well on my way up the "left front" panel as a result of three extra hours of knitting)

4. I only had to pay £2 to rent it from the library (althoug this comes with the rider that BECAUSE it was a library DVD there was an epic scratch at the 4:30 mark that rendered it unwatchable and meant that I had to skip to "Chapter 2" and miss 5 minutes of backstory. As long as it was not Hot David Tennant Backstory, I'll be ok.)

5. I've now actually seen it and can move on to something else.

Oh, and Rupert Penry-Jones who I thought could slip into 'Ken-doll Evil Character' at any point during The 39 Steps, was the PERFECT Ken-doll Evil Character (as Casanova's nemesis). Muahaha.

Two Roast Chicken stories!

My parents bought us the two Simon Hopkinson books for Christmas:

Roast Chicken and Other Stories, and Second Helpings of Roast Chicken. It's a somewhat oddly designed cookbook - it's laid out by ingredient (and only the ones that Hopkinson likes. However, everything in it sounds incredibly tasty, so i'm going to give his version of Roast Chicken a try this weekend. We haven't roasted a chicken in AGES. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Thanks, Mom & Dad!

We had an extra bell practice at Stowmarket last night - I got to ring the Tenor (my long-held ambition) and the treble for Plain Bob Triples. I even got to 'blow behind' for PBT. I didn't do it well, but it was incredibly fun. I don't know what it is about the huge bells - your mistakes are magnified and they give me evil blisters, but the satisfaction of being the one making the big, loud, ::BONG:: that keeps everyone in the right place is unmatched. Well, maybe making an exceedingly tasty roast chicken for the inlaws will match it. I'll let you know!

Neil Gaiman: The Graveyard Book

I just finished reading Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. Ok, "just finished" isn't exactly true. I finished it about 45 minutes ago, pondered it for 5 minutes, and turned back to the beginning and started again.

It is a dark but whimsical story about a boy named Nobody who lives in a graveyard and has been raised by the ghosts who live there.

Gaiman uses conventional mythology to root the story: a vampire and a werewolf are both involved, along with a witch, a sort of Cerberus creature, and some entertaining ghouls.

I *think* I may go out and buy a copy; John and James will both enjoy it and it's the kind of book I will happily reread.

Next on the list: a 'Richard and Judy' summer read which will prove to be forgettable, methinks. I can't sully my evening of reading with it, though - I'll just have to read some more Graveyard and then go to bed early.