Life News:
Well then, it's all over for another year and I have to say it's a relief. Only the aftermath to go now, though it's always nice to have holiday time, naturally. That said, Christmas hasn't been too bad this year - K and I had a nice relaxing day together yesterday, and the champagne was grand. I've never met a champagne I didn't like though. Pressies were wonderful and even my mother didn't provide her usual really strange present amongst the goodies, so I suspect she's been swopped for someone else, but Lord knows who. I was also thrilled when K came home after work on Friday bearing a bouquet of Christmas flowers. They look lovely and, believe me, I'm worth it.
The only present he didn't manage to get (and which he, bless him, drove all the way to Bracknell for on Friday) was a book on anger management I mentioned I wanted to get during the week. Well, these waves of pre-menopausal/pre-menstrual rage are getting quite debilitating for us all. There must be a solution somewhere. Though sadly, K didn't manage to get the book as when he finally got to the bookshop the one copy they had was reserved for someone else, dammit. He did admit he wondered briefly about whether he should burst into a fit of rage (so non-K ...) at the counter that he couldn't buy an anger management book but thought, probably wisely, that might well be an irony too far. Plus he was rather nervous about whether he should be getting his wife an anger book for Christmas at all. Sometimes failure can indeed be the best result! Ah well. I shall buy it online at some point.
In the meantime, we have graced the door of the church for the Christmas morning service, which went on rather too long for my liking (didn't they know we had a bottle of champers cooling nicely in the fridge and wanted to set it free??) and I have managed to stave off my potential cold, hurrah.
This morning, we have enjoyed a pleasant, if chilly, walk at Wisley and I'm slobbing this afternoon, big time. Bliss, on both fronts. Though it's very strange about the Wisley shop - it's so posh and lovely, and I leap in with every intention of buying something whenever we go but most times never actually do. It's probably outclassing my tastes, I fear.
Book News:
I am now about three-quarters of the way through the edits to The Gifting but am giving it a couple of days' break at the moment to catch my breath before 2011 comes upon us. Hope to finish going through it in early January.
I was also pleased to see that A Dangerous Man made it up to No 52 in the Amazon US Kindle charts on Christmas Eve, so that was a very nice surprise indeed. Makes Christmas almost worthwhile, don't you know, ho ho ho.
Anyway, here's a poem:
TV Heaven
Sunday nights
are for murder,
something cosy
with a hint of spice
to get your teeth into,
not gory enough to put you off
your cocoa and cake
but with enough blood
and interesting corpses
to give a certain zest
to the cheese and biscuits.
It’s an essential bridge
from the deep deep peace of the weekend
to the frantic hurly-burly
of the working week
so sit down, switch on
and don’t speak.
And the Sunday haiku (the last one of 2010!) is:
The sound of winter:
crackle of ice harmonised
with the grey dove's song.
Anne Brooke
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