Paul has started reading a Manual for Living, which is a re-vision of the philosphy of Epictetus (as written down by his students). He is very much enjoying it but says most of the advice is a lot easier to give than take. Seeing as how it is sometimes referred to as “the Mother of all Self-Help Books” I can see his point. It’s a tiny little book, too. Quite the inverse of what I will refer to later…
Paul’s off to Delta Air Park for the fly in breakfast… and yes, he’s driving there. I am off to a Spit at Giraffe in White Rock. I am very much looking forward to it – Spits are always grand fun. A Spit, as I explain again, is a gathering of Dorothy Dunnett fans.
I’m back in Doorstop country as of last night – I am reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and the damned thing COULD be used as a doorstop, it’s over a kilo, and I’ve got big divots outta my thumbs from holding it. I’m at page 316 and there are ONLY 782 pages. I’ve been told by all the reviewers that I’ll be sad when it ends.
Got the front flower bed adjoining the house straightened out last night, with most help from Paul. We mucked out the bottom of the compost bin; at one point the smell was so bad I almost pulled a Victoria Lady and tried to run away.
Spent a good chunk of yesterday drooling on the Lee Valley 2005 gardening catalogue. Why, o why, am I so sorcerously drawn to useful pots? Review of the spit later. Also, someone has sent me a cryptic email telling me to join the Unitarian Jihad. Can such things be?
