Well. I finished How the Dead Live last night, and it was every bit as grim and dark as I have come to expect from a Derek Raymond novel, but also just as good. I’m back to Mansfield Park, which alternately pleases and annoys me. Perhaps Jane Austen is not for me, I think…and then I hit an interesting section or a character does something I like, and I keep going. I’m halfway through the novel, so I’m determined to finish it now.
We have just a little bit more light each day, which is wonderful. I feel like I’m noticing it more than I did, say, last year. Maybe because of the added walk in the morning? Or maybe because I’m not head down with term papers. Who knows. Whatever it is, I notice the extra bit of daylight as I’m leaving work and I’m grateful for it. And quite pleased.
I picked up ‘He Died With His Eyes Open’ during Melville’s boxing day sale. You’re making me want to start it now!
It’s funny, I noticed the later light this year too and I’ve never noticed it this early before!!
The potatoes in my spud bucket started sprouting earlier, cats shedding, birds molting down. It all seems early to me, and if not, then why are we noticing it more this year than last?