Mad dogs and Englishmen...

I lay out in my hammock in the midday sun. I was supposed to taking pictures of a succulent, and tidying my desk. I took this wonky shot from the hammock by accident :)

But we do go mad when the sun is shining, and we are not at work. This happy combination of circumstances comes but rarely in the British Isles. And besides, I had to finish my book. The one I blipped yesterday. I was gripped, but now I feel haunted. Imagine if I had lost my sister...

I have three sisters. One is just one year younger than me. It was agreed that we would have to start boarding school (in another country, for crying out loud: didn't Ireland have enough Catholic schools in the 1970s?) At the same time. We did, in 1973. Gary Glitter was in the charts. Our mother's broken Achilles tendon had healed. Our baby sister was just one year old. As it says in the book I blipoed, there was Before and After. In my case, it was Before I started K (my school) and After I started at K.

Nobody beat us or sexually abused us, but precious few were kind to little girls. Precious few knew how. It was a nun-thing. How could they encourage us to express our interest individuality when they had Surrendered their own ego to a higher power the day they took their vows?

However, I thoroughly recommend the book, which has nothing whatsoever to do with nuns, but does take childhood and nurture as a theme. I am sticking with the plan of reading books by authors beginning with F at the moment, as there are so F....ing many of them. Current choice is Infinite Sky by CJ Flood. It won't take long as it has large print.

The desk tidying is not going well because it's hit here, and the piles of muddle just keep reconfiguring themselves. From downstairs I can smell supper cooking, and strains of Bob Dylan wafting on the no-breeze.