I am in here.
About to finish South Riding, by Winifred Holtby. It’s set in an — I hope — not too fictionalized Yorkshire Riding. It’s more of an ensemble book, not singularly focused on an educator as the one and only main character, than To Serve Them All My Days by R. F. Delderfield, which is next on … Continue reading The ever-eternal reading list gets amended. Again.
If people would only leave me alone with their damned faces. — Thomas Gainsborough, revolutionary portrait painter who would rather have been painting landscapes
Even though I can’t use it for its main purpose, my iPhone has gotten much use here in London for its picture-taking capabilities. [Aside — it can also be used to play Angry Birds with on the Underground, but that wasn’t me — that was the guy sitting next to me. Honest!]
As you may have noticed — or not, seeing as you’re not here, I think — I have fled the joyous confines of Cincinnati and am now nestled in a nice, fluffy hotel room in London. It even seems to be reasonably close to the British Museum. Closer than Cincinnati at least. And I arrived … Continue reading She’s not there
white pebble 