Reading

Having a little mini-holiday at the moment, just for a week, so I've been reading non-stop (apart from gardening). Two recommended books:

The Asylum by John Harwood is one for Vic-lit fans. If you like Sarah Waters and Wilkie Collins you'd probably enjoy this. It's more Gothic than Sarah, but very plotty just like Collins. Mistaken identity, betrayal, dark pasts, a lost will, insanity, spooky old buildings and a little hint of lesbianism make this a worthy entrant on the Vic-lit list. Not the best I've read, but certainly not the worst either.

 I've just started Ailsa Piper's Sinning across Spain, but it seems promising. Piper decided to walk across Spain on the old Moorish road, the Mozarabe, from Granada to Santiago de Compostella, and hit upon the novel idea of financing the trek by carrying people's sins for money, and to drop the sins off at the shrine of St James. Apparently this was something done in medieval times by poor people who wanted to go on pilgrimage but had no money. Whether this is theologically possible or morally reprehensible (shouldn't people carry their own sins?) are questions she address thoughtfully. Sin isn't a concept you hear talked about much these days, so it's interesting to read the sorts of things people consider to be sinful. My big sin is probably sloth; I am a lazy, lazy person and tomorrow is always soon enough for the completion of any task, particularly if it's an unpleasant one. Lots of things to think about in this book. 

   I have to go now, and get off my slothful behind to go and throw paper balls around the living room for Thomas' playtime. It's raining and cold again, so no outdoors run this evening.

Bits and pieces

       View from my sunroom window. Roses are Peace in foreground and Phyllis Bide in background.

Not much going on at the moment. Lots of roses in the garden, but the weather continues very unsettled, windy and hot, windy and cold, windy with rain and hail. One minute I'm watering the vegetable garden in 27 degree heat, the next I'm covering up the tender stuff from the cold night air. Weird.
    Nothing much on the reading front either. I had to give up "The book thief" because I found it too depressing; I think this was why I avoided it for so long. I'm now reading "The shadow queen" by Sarah Gulland, about Madame de Montespan. I really enjoyed her books on Josephine Bonaparte and this seems to be quite promising too. I've returned to re-reading Georgette Heyer, continuing to look for cheap copies in second-hand bookshops and fairs. 
  Of course, we've started the run-up to the dreaded Christmas, the annual lunacy foisted upon us by retailers; it's not really about Christianity anymore at all, just who can spend the most money for the most "perfect" Christmas, people being persuaded to put themselves in debt so that the kids can have enough plastic rubbish. Another thing about my fellow human beings that I just don't understand at all. How can they be so stupid? 
   Speaking of stupidity, I've been trawling in some of the darker areas of youTube, no, not porn, but conspiracy theories and alien abductions. So many of the films of aliens are so obviously faked with people dressed up, but many of those who comment are convinced that aliens walk among us, but as one nay-sayer commented, isn't it strange that in this era of exceptional digital image quality, the films and photos are so poor? Well, the answer is that it's because of the negative force field that aliens generate around them. I just made that reason up, but it sounds very convincing when you've been reading some of the comments on the videos on youTube. Ah well, back to funny kittens, they're much less controversial.

Today

Here's a picture of my conservatory, with the grapevine growing outside. I do like grapevines, they give a nice Mediterranean air of ancient civilisation and domesticity to a place. This is a cutting of an old one that was already growing here, what it's name is I don't know. It is a small white grape with a rosy blush, very nice for eating. I've never made wine with it, as I've never had enough fruit from it before, but I'm starting to think about wine-making with some of the fruit I have here in the garden. My dad made lots of fruit wines when I was a kid, and very nice they were too. Peach and apricot were especially effective, I remember. It will require some outlay in equipment though; I'll have to see what I can get for nothing or next to nothing. The weather has finally got a bit warmer, and I've been doing more gardening, cutting off a branch from my ornamental cherry that was sticking out over the footpath. I liked the way it made people bow and genuflect as they went past my house ("a goddess lives here"), but the thought of someone braining themselves on it was beginning to be a worry. Fortunately, it wasn't too difficult and makes the tree look more balanced.

Roses are blooming all over the garden now. These are Peace and Buff Beauty.

Gruss an Aachen

The only problem with roses is hay fever. I took a sniff at Gruss an Aachen about half an hour ago, and boy did my nose run! Dinner tonight was Improved Macaroni cheese - I put red peppers and herbs in it and blue cheese (yum) and a salad from the garden. I think I might bake a chocolate cake next, I feel a cake coming on!

Roses are coming out

Lots flowering going on at the moment.

NaNoWriMo... still sucks

                            
                                        First rose of "Crepuscule"

Not getting to grips with The Novel at all. It's become a real pain, and I am sick of it. Of course, it has been a lesson. In humility. In embracing failure. I think I have something good in terms of setting, device and characters, but plot is my weakness. Perhaps I'll just ditch the plot and write anyway, making it subtle and arty instead of a readable story. I won't give up quite yet but I don't hold out much hope of going the distance at this stage. Not happy with myself at all.
   The weather has been cold and miserable for the last three days. We had hail the day before yesterday, big chunks of ice. The basil I sowed has failed to germinate, as have the Baby Bear pumpkins and the Whangaparaoa Crown pumpkins. I'll have to have another go at these. The only success is the Crystal Apple cucumbers, they've all gone well.
   Of course it's Guy Fawkes night tonight, but we'll have the bangers going right through till Sunday anyway, various pyromaniacs like to keep on partying long after the party has finished. Keeping Thomas in every night is difficult, but at least he's not as terrified as my poor Eddie was. Eddie used to squeeze under the sofa, howling. Thom just looks up with a what the hell.. look on his face.
    I feel a piece of chocolate cake coming on.....

NaNoWriMo sucks

'Gruss an Aachen' rose

Well, I've started the Great Novel, but it's just not falling into place. It's not so much the words that are difficult but all of it; the plot, the characters, the setting. I haven't really decided anything but am a Pantser (someone who writes by the seat of their pants) as opposed to a Planner. Planners have whole notebooks and whiteboards of what to write. I've always been a bit scornful of this approach, believing romantically in the white-hot fire of inspiration, but I don't think that inspiration alone will get me where I want to go. I'm now thinking of making my erstwhile heroine into an evil, conniving bitch, hoping to make her more interesting! Or perhaps have her abducted by aliens, which would make the plot a little more exciting too. I'll carry on, with the aid of numerous library books about how to write a novel, but I really don't know if I'll complete this. It's beginning to feel too much like writing an assignment for school, work not fun. I just have to convince myself not to feel too guilty if I kick it in the guts.
   Perhaps I'll stick to gardening instead