I have not stopped. And now it is nearly midnight and my bed looks like a big table in the middle of a large country fair's jumble sale before the organised vicar's wife gets on with allocating who's doing what. I can barely see the top of the pile of clothes I have decided to take with me to a country where the weather will be so hot that wearing any clothes will be an act of madness or masochism. I am also taking a selection of uncomfortable shoes, jewellery I'll forget to put on, and a range of unflattering bikinis. My selection of suncream, after sun, sunburn gel and assorted other sun products weighs at least six time the Easyjet baggage weight allowance. And thinning down my chosen items is simply out of the question. I feel a late night coming on.
Holiday reading is as follows:
Studs Terkel: Hope Dies Last
Joseph O'Neill: Netherland
Philippe Legrain: Immigrants: Your Country Needs Them
Ryszard Kapuscinski: Imperium
Paul Auster: Moon Palace
Murakami: Norwegian Wood
Margaret Atwood: The Handmaid's Tale
Aravind Adiga: The White Tiger
Aldous Huxley: Brave New World
Robert Harris: Ghost
Flann O'Brien: The Third Policeman
Will let you know how I get on. See you in Egypt.
Ooh, Moon Palace is a bloody fantastic story, but I love all Paul Auster. Really loved Norwegian Wood too. Enjoy them all!
ReplyDeleteNetherland is dull dull dull
ReplyDeleteOh, is it? I have to read it for a book club. Wouldn't have chosen it otherwise. Hmmm. Will move it to the bottom of the pile. Still haven't started any of the holiday list as am ploughing through my last commuter book, I Wouldn't Start From Here by Andrew Mueller, which is so brilliant that it's making me not want to get onto the next read.
ReplyDelete