Damn it, I've just fallen off the book wagon. I've bought relatively few recently - 2/3 per week instead of ten (currently reading Norman Davies's very interesting Vanished Kingdoms (though I'm not sure what to get out of it beyond fascination other than awareness that all states are temporary) and just finished Jonathan Coe's funny, emotional The House of Sleep), but having a bad day's teaching yesterday, combined with a trip to the bookshop to buy a birthday present, meant that temptation was too strong.
It's all comfort reading: volume 1 of Matthews and Sweeney's very faithful graphic adaptation of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur (which might come in useful in several modules), P. D. James's Pride and Prejudice murder mystery Death Comes To Pemberley (despite not being too happy handing cash over to a Tory peer and despite this hilarious negative review), and on the recommendation of friends, Wodehouse's Leave it to Psmith, one of his Blandings novels.
I went for a swim today. It was enough to make me consider voting Tory, even for the Egregious Uppal. Thanks to the massive cuts in school sports budgets and free swimming for old people, I had an entire 25-metre municipal pool all to myself. In this case, we certainly weren't all in it together. I was in it, and they weren't. Though I wasn't in it in the altogether. Ugh.
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