Lots and lots of these meadow browns on the lavender today, but then the rain came back. So now I know four, with a few more fluttering at the edge of memory.
I always said I would learn the names of all the trees...........and types of clouds. Still don't, I do know a few trees, a few butterflies, a few birds.
Brain is a bit fey this evening as I spent a deal of the afternoon between two fog horns, M and ma. I am watching Midsummer Murders to settle down, nice and undemanding.
M left me the new Jeffrey Deaver, which is likely to be a bit more exciting, she swopped it for my Icelandic crime latest by Yrsa Sigurdardottir. Quite a flurry of Scandanavian crime books at the mo. I have just read Karin Fossum [Norwegian]- very good, a satisfyingly mature story even tho in the end she doesn't confirm who "dunnit"
I am enjoying a Bill James now, he's a very mannered writer of baroque 1980s criminals,[no mobile phones to ease the plot]. with the police - Harper and Isles- confusingly as bad at times.
Wolf Hall, my favourite so far this year, has made it onto the long list for the Booker, very pleasing. M claims she is reading it but tucked the Icelander away with swift glee, so i think Cardinal Wolsey may have to wait.
And waiting in the wings I have the first Fred Vargas [published last] I love these stories by the oddly name French woman; and the new Denise Mina whom I am giving a try, hoping she has left incest and accompanying nastiness behind. should get me through the next few days without too much reality.
