Into the Lucky Dip

I have been reading.  For a change.  And, as is also usual, I have been reading an eclectic assortment of things.

I will start with a gem from a chain email (which I usually loathe) that the smaller portion's sister sent me.

'...remember this motto to live by: Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, totally worn out and screaming 'WOOO HOOOOO what a ride!'

There is not the remotest chance of me arriving at that final destination in a well preserved attractive body - so I appreciated the sentiment.  And I am a consumer of both chocolate and wine.

And then onto books proper.

You might remember I got a bit greedy recently and ordered rather a lot of books.  Some of them have arrived and, largely neglecting my unread towers, I have dived in.

And they have been wonderful.

librarygirl first introduced me to Ben Aaronovitch, and I am beyond grateful.  I have a weakness for murder mysteries/detective novels.  And magic.  And am fascinated by mythology.  This series combines them all.  Cleverly.  The plots are new - and a delight.  There are now four in the series and I have, and will keep, them all.  The blurb on an earlier book in the series talks about a blend of CSI and Harry Potter - which is a serious underestimate of the charm.  Not only did I buy the last in the series in my recent binge I discovered that I had somehow missed the third.  So I had to have them both. 

 Onto the next treat.

 This gem comes from the clever brain of Susan Flett Swiderski.  I enjoy each and every one of her posts and loved her book.  I guzzled it.  I laughed - which is always a good thing, and I wept - which is often not a bad thing either.  This book took me (at a gallop) between the minefields of family, menopause, illness, grief and loss.   Minefields which the leading lady survived - developing intestinal fortitude far beyond what she believed possible.   And reinforcing my own philosophy that there is nothing so serious that it can't be funny.  And that laughter (unless malicious) is never inappropriate.


On election day we went past our local polling booth.  I had already voted, and the skinny one doesn't so we had no need to stop in.  But there was a book fair.   Oh dear.

'My name is Elephant's Child and I am a bookoholic.  It is not very long since I bought my last book and I am unable to stop at one...'

And this next book was one of those I acquired at the book fair.

  
Some of you will remember the BBC program Two Fat Ladies.   The fat ladies in question, Jennifer Paterson and Clarissa Dickson Wright travelled the UK in a motorcycle (and sidecar) cooking gargantuan meals using local fresh ingredients.  I had no urge to try the recipes but enjoyed the interaction between them.  Of the two of them I much preferred Jennifer Paterson.  

Just the same, when I saw this volume of Clarissa's memoirs I snaffled it up with glee.   A mistake.  A big mistake.  She is avidly in favour of hunting.  I am not.  She is not a vegetarian.  I am.  She doesn't understand how anyone can be a vegetarian - and neither do quite a lot of my family.

For an educated woman she is an offensive bigot.  One of the things which caused my hackles to rise in this book is her insistence (and I am too angry to find the exact quote so will paraphrase) that everyone NEEDS animal protein to be healthy.  Based on this premise she asserts that the many people in India who are vegetarian are healthy because their rice and lentils are contaminated by rodent and insect faeces.  When these people come to the UK the ingredients for their accustomed diet are presented to them in a more hygienic way - without the droppings, and consequently they become sick.  Hiss and bloody spit. 

She is equally against conservationists.  And a number of other principles I hold dear.

This book has gone to my recycle pile.  I did finish it, but I said rather a lot of bad words before I was through.  And have nearly finished a collection of crime stories edited by Elizabeth George to take the bad taste of Clarissa's little effort from out of my mouth.