Sweethearts, the nights get longer – a bit like earlobes do (according to Phil) as time passes on. Since I have long hair I shall worry about that once my hair starts falling out. In the meantime my main ambition is to not get long in the tooth.
In the absence of anything better to do I have (no, not lit a fire) looked through a stack of books, forlorn and neglected in a corner. And came across an author I find so incomprehensible I will give him away. Our twain will never meet. Want to know the name? Just ask. Not that he is the only one. I will give any print a try – well, no, not any, but most – yet, by Jove, one’s patience may be tested.
Talking of which, and please do tell me now: Leaving non-fiction aside since with non-fiction it doesn’t matter on which page you open the book: Are any of you that most awful of creatures who reads the end first? If you are please don’t tell me because you will go down the greasy pole of my esteem before you can say ‘rock bottom’.
It’s no joke. There is a book I’d love to give to two long distant friends of mine. Bought the copies for them years ago. It’s a brilliant read. It encompasses all both of them are interested in. Not least food. Yet, I can’t bring myself to send it to them. Why? Because I know them. They’ll flick through it, read the last page and spoil the whole surprise. Which makes the whole exercise pointless.