I literally haven't even logged into Typepad since the last post I blogged. Partly my computer went haywire and I couldn't use it for several days, but also other things took over. I've been trying to do some long-overdue decorating, finish several craft projects and get some reading done. But here's to a new resolution: I'm going to blog every 2 or 3 days. Will make myself do it!!
I'm currently waiting for the ever-efficient Amazon to deliver my book group's next choice, 'The Slap' so meanwhile I'm dipping into EM Delafield's 'The Diary of a Provincial Lady'. It was published originally in 1930, but is very readable today as it's written in a kind of Bridget Jones style diary entries. The heroine of the story is a very middle class woman, married to a 'conservative' tactiturn husband and with two young children. She worries about 'the servant problem', her indoor bulbs, her clothes. It's very funny and a rather comforting read, ideal for autumn. Don't you find that some books are 'summer' books or 'winter' books? They're seasonal, I'm convinced of it. For instance, Charles Dickens novels just don't suit hot, sunny days. They're definitely winter books.
When not reading (and when trying to ignore the partly painted skirted board in the bathroom!!) I'm finishing off needlepoint and patchwork projects. There's a tower of three plastic crates in the sitting room, full of wool and patchwork pieces and canvas, topped by a tower of WIPs. How do other people get those minimalist homes which consist of a designer sofa, a single glass vase and a sleek white Persian that never seems to cough up hair balls? Maybe they just have a cellar just of clutter or a dusty attic choc-a-bloc with boxes and bags? Or maybe they've just bought the house/apartment next door and it's full to bursting, allowing them to live in splendid designer isolation and pretend they don't need the same baggage as the rest of us???