'Literary Occasions Essays' by VS Naipaul was excellent reading. Well, I'd expect nothing else but excellence from this writer. A writer I only discovered in 2002 or thereabouts, after a lecturer mentioned him in an off-the-cuff remark during a lecture. The remark went something along the lines of - "If anyone hasn't read 'A House for Mr Biswas', they must do so immediately."
Naipaul's descriptions of how he writes, how he began to write and how the whole process ties into his childhood background and upbringing, was useful and fascinating stuff. Another book I didn't want to end. But that's all right - there are plenty of other books Naipaul's written, both fiction and non-fiction, that I have yet to read. And I resolve to do so.
I opened the mailbox lid yesterday to find a book from Amazon. Clare Dudman's 'One Day The Ice Will Reveal All It's Dead'. Last night I ran myself a deep, hot bath and as I happily wallowed, read the introduction. If the introduction is any indication of the rest, I am certainly in for a treat.
This afternoon I met baby H. He's alert and interesting. Tomorrow I start being his nanny from Monday to Thursday. I think we're going to get along just fine.
ABM and myself have been spending time in the wilderness around our house bush-whacking. We are feeling very satisfied at what we've managed to clear, and the sunlight we've managed to let in up the back of our section where the branches of trees were holding hands. So much so that you could stand up there in the rain and not get wet. I say sunlight, but to be honest it is in short supply. The usual January, very low and thick cloud-cover overhead, has Dunedin sitting under it like a schooner in the doldrums. Hearing gulls mourning overhead, just completes the dismal scene. Ah but perfect weather for reading - now where did I put that book?