Possibly the hottest day of the year here in the SE, the garden is turning into the Serengeti altho the plants seem to be just about OK, the ones in pots tho are under extreme stress, especially the sunflowers. One broke in the wind [before I realised they needed string, and lots of it to stop them swaying and snapping] a few weeks back, but has regenerated and has flower heads just about to open so we are trying to keep it dampish as it has had such a difficult life.
Next door have bought a pump for the well we share, and set up sprinklers in their garden. They have offered to share but RP needs to "do it his way" eg stubborn.
All very trivial compared to the suicide bombs in Afghanistan and Iraq today, and seemingly every day.
Have just finished a novel on Scipio, lots about the atrocities [my eye slides quickly down the gruesome paragraphs] of both the Roman and Carthaginian armies - does give a context I suppose.
Humans can be horrific, but in the main we're not, mostly we rub along without doing each other in.
But I have seem to need my share of violence in three more novels this week. Ritual by Mo Hayder was very bloodthirsty, not many laughs.
Ann Cleeves' Raven Black was recommended by mother, well written and only two murders in the Shetlands, but the murderer was totally unlikely, very annoying.
Michael Marshall's Blood of Angels was so addictive I spent most of today racing through, lots of dismembered corpses [hands cut off - reminiscent of one of old Hannibal's reposte to the Romans]- so partly I wanted to get it over with before bedtime.
So another day passes.
