Had a cognitive dissonance moment earlier. Reading a book about supernatural goings on in New York, wizards, vampires, that sort of malarkey, when the narrator describes someone as having hands covered in something that "looked like black pudding".
Took me a moment or two to realise that he must mean the sort of thick custardy stuff that Americans call "pudding" rather than the blood sausages that are "black pudding" here.....
35. Sun In Glory by Mercedes Lackey, et al. 36. Mrs Hudson and the Spirits’ Curse by Martin Davies. 37. Agent of Change by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller* 38. Wolverine’s Daughter by Doranna Durgin 39. A Bird in the Hand by Ann Cleeves 40. Libriomancer by Jim C. Hines 41. Angel by Carola Dunn 42. Conflict of Honors by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller* 43. In the Market For Murder by T.E. Kinsey 44. The Corpse With The Silver Tongue by Cathy Ace. 45. His Christmas Countess by Loiuse Allen 46. A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness 47. Claimed by Shadow by Karen Chance 48. The Satanic Mechanic by Sally Andrew 49. Alas, She Drowned by Monica Knightley
Book Abandoned :- Shaded Light by J.A. Menzies
Best book of the month was definitely "A Monster Calls". It made me cry, but is excellently written.
So, the protagonist of a detective novel is in an apartment whose owner has been murdered by poison.
Another resident of the same building has also died, within a day of the first victim, probably also by poison.
The protagonist is a criminologist, moderately sensible and intelligent.
They have just had lunch with the victim's wife and friends (sent in from a restaurant) and they are cleaning up the remnants while the others do things elsewhere.
They find a glass of cold beer in the kitchen.
They do not know who put it there.
They drink it.
On a scale of one to ten, how hard would you throw the book at the wall?
I was partway through crocheting a tiny top hat last night , put the thing down to make a cup of tea and when I came back in the hook had disappeared.
Since we don't even have a sofa for it to have fallen down the back of, I can only assume we must have Feegle in the house and the little hooters have taken up pole-vaulting....
Got about a quarter of the way through and there had been no detecting, nor yet any murder done. In fact we'd only met the detectives briefly in a short prologue. The first 90 odd pages of the book were introducing various members of a weekend party in modern day Canada and hinting at various reasons some of them might have for bumping off others.
Which is all well and good, but not my preferred style of mystery - I like to learn about the characters as the detectives do, so that I'm aware of the same evidence they are. Still I was prepared to give it a chance. Until one of the characters began banging on about her personal relationship with God in such a way that i strongly suspected she was a mouthpiece for the author.
I don't object to characters in fiction having sincere religious beliefs - indeed, one of my favourite fictional detectives is Brother Cadfael, a Benedictine monk - but I don't care for authors who *preach* at me. Shan't be reading any more of *that* one.
On Monday I had to take the van over to Stapleford for a repair. The bad news was, they couldn’t do it there and then. The good news was that it’s a recognised fault and they would take pictures, get it authorised by Ford and organise the repairs later.
So I pootled off to Attenborough to visit the ducks as it’s only a few minutes away from the garage….
Congratulations YouView , you've rejigged your UI and made it less intuitive and more annoying to use.
The old version had the recordings in a simple text list, ordered by when they were recorded. It was clear. It was simple. It was easy to find the thing I wanted to watch.
The new one has pictures! Of different sizes! In no discernible order! And appears to be shouting in my face all the time! And have to scroll back across three screens to find the episode of Castle I want!
Hooterem sideways with the rough end of a pineapple.
Just back from collecting Rob and his new velo from Newcastle ferryport this morning. I stayed up there overnight to make life easier and yesterday, I reached the Angel of the North just as dusk was falling...
Huge crash in the kitchen at about half six this morning.
Downstairs to investigate and there's the teapot - the *Denby* teapot, mind - on the floor and a rather subdued Rebus. Normally he's rubbing round my ankles in anticipation of breakfast first thing in the morning, but today he was into the lounge and observing from a distance, even before I saw what he'd done and called him a rude name.
Astonishingly, the pot itself was intact, but the lid was in a Several of pieces. I swept those up and then went to give Rebus a cuddle - we've got three or four teapots but only one cat, after all.
On Friday we drove up to Caerlaverock Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust for a short break - just overnight, coming back on Saturday. The main thing we went to see were the Whooper swans which migrate here from Iceland for the winter, but there were plenty of other birds too.