London called, so me and the Boy went. Just for the day but hugely enjoyable (oh, Ottolenghi's scrambled tofu, you beaut) nonetheless.
Then there was an outing to York for a mooch in the mist and a catch up with the littlest and his mother. Seems someone is putting travel time to good use.
Feeling crafty, I made a card for a friend who's celebrating a big birthday. There's a party tonight and I'm sparing the mister the agony of attending a large scale social gathering by popping along on my own. Not something I particularly relish but I'll don the glad rags and pile on the slap. Needs must and all that.
Clearly on a crafting roll, the pointy sticks came out and a cowl was cast on. Easy knitting whilst browsing a new magazine and tuning into the second series of Fortitude.
Despite considering a throwing in of the towel several times, I finally managed to finish Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow. This was such an odd book and even now I'm not really sure what I think about it.
There's the perfect setting (initially, a wintry Copenhagen and finally, the Arctic). There's a tragedy (a young child dies after falling from a roof). Then there's gritty Miss Smilla Jaspersen, half Greenlander, half Danish, with a feeling for snow and ice and a nose for a crime to be solved. Throw in a big corporation, some (baffling for me) science, a string of baddies and you'd think you'd have the ingredients for a riveting read.
The story certainly begins with promise and there were sections in the book which were engrossing. But it was by no means an easy read (there is an incredible amount of detail in parts) and, in a way, I was mirroring Smilla's doggedness by making it to the last page. At times, it felt more like James Bond than Nordic noir and I wasn't always clear about who was who, what was happening and why, though maybe that says more about me than the book. I'm sure it deserves a re-read but sorry, I'm out.
One of the reading aims for 2017 was to move outside of my literary comfort zone and I've done just that with the current book at bedtime. Sci-fi, no less. There's a first.
With recent purchases piled up around me, there's now a self imposed book buying ban in operation.
Yep, cold turkey and a stinking headache as a result.