I wonder if Granny O'Grimm has any theories linking the St. Mel's Cathedral burning and the Irish church's sex scandals?
I've had a good couple of days. I visited The Well of Lost Blogs (honours even on the Scrabble, dammit), ate well, received excellent gifts including a cat-shaped pencil sharpener which meows piteously when you insert the pencil into the obvious orifice, record coasters, the concise Larousse and much else beside. I also spent my book tokens today: Nigel Slater's Tender (I'm starting a veg patch in the spring), the new Jasper Fforde (Shades of Grey), and Stephen Foster's …And She Laughed No More, the witty follow-up to She Stood There Laughing, his wry memoir of following Stoke City before the glory days.
Inspired by Ms E-Mentor's adventures in the Victorian Web, I'm reading Braddon's 1861 'sensation novel' Lady Audley's Secret. It's gripping and fascinating. Don't know what the secret is yet though…
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