This week my brain has been working out, and you know what? It feels wonderful. I feel wonderful. Everything is wonderful!
(And I have un umpire for Sunday hockey match which, I totally understand, doesn't mean anything to you but it's been keeping me awake at night and totally stressing me out. But no more.)
I've been to a few events at the Cheltenham Literary Festival and I swear to you it's like my mind has been on holiday... I've been more productive at home, my ironing basket is empty and the laundry pile is at a year low level. There's food in the fridge, I know exactly what I'm going to feed my tribe tonight and the beds are made. It's pizza. It's Friday so it's pizza right, it's what they want and sometimes I give them what they want... I'm nice like that.
The only thing that is 'slightly' out of control is my 'to read' pile

I find it really hard when an author I like talks enthusiastically about his/her book not to buy it afterword. And i'm s sucker for a signed book. By the author that is. Not by 'auntie Mary on your 13th birthday' kind signature, the one that you find in second hand books, although they can be funny too.
First event I attended was Maggie O' Farrell. Brilliant. She seemed very unaffected, approachable, smart, funny. The type of woman you can imagine sitting at your table and have a good chat with. Pleasantly surprised as I had NO idea of what she could be like. Incidentally The disappearing act of Esme Lennox is a fabulous book.
Then I went to see Graham Swift. I'm not sure why. I'd seen him before, talking about his book 'Last orders'. I'm not sure I liked it. This time he talked about 'Mothering Sunday', which I've just finished and enjoyed very much. He's very English, very certain of his intellectual capacity and I'm not sure he enjoys the public talks as much as tries to portrays. Probably not good for a dinner party (although I'm sure there's more to him that meets he eye, occasionally some good dry English humour escaped his well tight persona), but very good for a train journey. Does that make sense?
This was followed by an extremely enjoyable hour with Jonathan Safran Foer. Intense young man. (I say young... a couple of years younger than me!). I'd only read one boo of his, 'Extremely loud and incredible close' which I though was absolutely great. I look forward to his other two books. Plus his autographs are really cool.

Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things but to use my wise grandma's wise phrase... 'it all adds flavour to the soup'.
Yesterday I attended two more events. The first one was about Turner, the great English landscape painter; it could appear as a random choice but I knew nothing about Turner and now I do, a little more, so that's a win win for me. No I didn't buy one of his painting... can you imagine that?
And last night I sat in on a talk about 'The great American novel' and it was fascinating.
My 'reading in English career' (career? you know what I mean) started when I was 18 and was spending the summer in Milwaukee (which I only knew it existed because of Laverne and Shirley) at my American sister's house. My first ever book in English? 'Misery' by Stephen King.
Yeah.
Whatever. (It's a very good book though).
Since then I've always been fond and enjoyed more the 'American' voices in all it's various tones, and I left after last night with a long list of books I apparently must ready.
Oh boy.
It'll never end.
Which is a good thing, right?
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