I’m doing this on my pone so it’s all going in tgether. I am on the Isle of Wight. (This piture shows Ventnor, not San Francisco.) I was meant to be watching the Tour of Britain, which was meant to be crossing the Island and coming through Ventnor tomorrow. However, the Queen died (and that’s quite a thing to get one’s head around in itself) and so it’s cancelled. So it’s turned into a regular Island-weekend-with-family, which is very good in itself, but it would have been even more fun to watch the cycling together.
And because regular Island weekends with family tend to mean clearing my father’s house, we’ve been doing that, and it’s slow going. Yesterday I was close to despairing. Today I took a load of shelves to bits and felt better. But yes, it’s not an easy process. Often aggravating. Occasionally poignant. Sometimes hilarious. We found a little card on which was recorded my first visit to a pub. I was less than a month old. And I have to say that should I have need of a 1950s model San Francisco cable car (this will become relevant later), I have a far greater than average chance of finding one.
Plus the trains have been awful and I’ve been knackered.
Pumping up the tyres on my bike. Made it much easier to get up the hill, even with a holdall, a satchel, and a tote bag with a cork yoga block.
Madame Clorinda is back! Not that she’s been Madame Clorinda for a long time, of course, but she’s been brightening my mornings.
Started The Embroidered Sunset (Joan Aiken) with an online readalong.
Finished Double or Nothing: very good, twisty, introduces some engaging new characters and had me looking forward to seeing more of them.
I also read, and loved, Last Night at the Telegraph Club (Malinda Lo), and I would rave about it if I weren’t typing in this hideous mobile interface. Amazing sense of time and place. Let the cable car speak for how much I liked it.
Up against it with this patchwork thing.
The Tour of Britain, or what there was of it.
Beef olives, for the first time ever, and baked figs.
Jeremy Wilson talking about Beryl Burton at Ventnor Exchange. Very difficult to stop Beryl Burton, even when all other cycling stops.
Scrabble, with my mother. I won, largely because I drew J, Q, Z and K.
The full moon over the sea.
Beryl. Will also be taking some things home from my father’s house…
Various dresses on the Joanie site. I don’t really need any new dresses.
Line of the week
From Last Night at the Telegraph Club:
The door was propped open, and inside she saw Shirley’s baby-blue party dress on a hanger hooked over the edge of a locker door, like the shell of a girl floating in midair.
This coming week
Back to the writing. An early bus and an early hovercraft. And a nice quiet Saturday, I hope.
Anything you’d like to share from this week? Any hopes for next week? Share them here!