No vanity, but much vexation of spirit
International issues aside, was woken from my scratchy achey head cold half-sleep by someone wanting me to be her in half an hour. Pulled clothes on, called a cab, munched slice of toast while sweeping away snow outside. Phone pings, cab co has a 'trace you drive' app, driver is just coming up Christie from Bloor, should be here in two minutes. No cab appears. Now I assume these guys have whatever it's called to tell them how to navigate my traffic maze, but maybe not and maybe he turned down instead of up. I call the company again to be told my driver has picked up his fare. Well, he certainly didn't do it on my block. So they send another cab who arrived eventually. Last night's 'snow' is more like little ice pellets and the roads are very slippery and, bref, what would be a 15 minute bike ride on clear streets takes half an hour.
But I arrived, sans exercises, and in consequence ached all day. Work *really* has to stop relying on old crocks like me and the worker who called me today whose back has gone out from too much hefting of lumpen toddlers.
Finished in January?
Ira Levin, A Kiss Before Dying
-- he promised me an eager amateur female sleuth but no, had to revert to eager amateur male sleuth in the end. Wimp
Cogman, The Mortal Word
-- Paris and dragons. Maybe that's why this is one of my faves in the series
Dante, Purgatorio
-- had a sneak peek at the Paradiso as well. Pretty sure that's not going to happen
Robin Stevens, Murder Most Unladylike and Arsenic for Tea
-- so I went and found my own eager amateur female sleuths, though actually read in the American edition. The first was enough of a romp but the second has a dark edge to it that I'm not used to in mysteries, even when Sayers tries to write it in. Right, Peter, how your sensibilities suffer at the consequence of your actions, you poor poor thing. But Hazel is thirteen and being exposed to real unpleasantness for the first time in her life, and is understandably ambivalent about delving into them.
And now?
Still with Lies Sleeping, partly to make it last, partly because it isn't really grabbing me (but then neither did Broken Homes or The Hanging Tree until I reread them.
Still with Aya de Yopougon, last volume in both French and English: dragging my feet to make it last as well. I have weird but lovely dreams after reading Aya. And apparently the animated film is on youtube.
Robin Stevens, First Class Murder
-- so if the Wells and Wong series makes me feel so oogey, why do I continue to read it? Not sure: maybe to see what happens. It's the mid 1930s and Hazel's family live in Hong Kong, which I hope they'll leave before 1941.
Next?
Have the Wells and Wong short stories coming from the library. We'll see if I read them.
But I arrived, sans exercises, and in consequence ached all day. Work *really* has to stop relying on old crocks like me and the worker who called me today whose back has gone out from too much hefting of lumpen toddlers.
Finished in January?
Ira Levin, A Kiss Before Dying
-- he promised me an eager amateur female sleuth but no, had to revert to eager amateur male sleuth in the end. Wimp
Cogman, The Mortal Word
-- Paris and dragons. Maybe that's why this is one of my faves in the series
Dante, Purgatorio
-- had a sneak peek at the Paradiso as well. Pretty sure that's not going to happen
Robin Stevens, Murder Most Unladylike and Arsenic for Tea
-- so I went and found my own eager amateur female sleuths, though actually read in the American edition. The first was enough of a romp but the second has a dark edge to it that I'm not used to in mysteries, even when Sayers tries to write it in. Right, Peter, how your sensibilities suffer at the consequence of your actions, you poor poor thing. But Hazel is thirteen and being exposed to real unpleasantness for the first time in her life, and is understandably ambivalent about delving into them.
And now?
Still with Lies Sleeping, partly to make it last, partly because it isn't really grabbing me (but then neither did Broken Homes or The Hanging Tree until I reread them.
Still with Aya de Yopougon, last volume in both French and English: dragging my feet to make it last as well. I have weird but lovely dreams after reading Aya. And apparently the animated film is on youtube.
Robin Stevens, First Class Murder
-- so if the Wells and Wong series makes me feel so oogey, why do I continue to read it? Not sure: maybe to see what happens. It's the mid 1930s and Hazel's family live in Hong Kong, which I hope they'll leave before 1941.
Next?
Have the Wells and Wong short stories coming from the library. We'll see if I read them.