I was bemoaning my strange hands (bent fingers) and feet (extra toe) to Husband.
'Don't worry,' he said. 'It's all part of your ... weirdness.'
'Weirdness? I thought you were going to say charm.'
Back-pedalling rapidly Husband said, 'Well, your weirdness is part of your charm.'
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I dreamt last night that my novel submission had been rejected. It is incredibly depressing when even my subconscious has no faith in my ability.
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We went to the library this afternoon. Husband had finished his book and I'd finished three. I wasn't going to get another out as I still have my Blind Date - which turned out to be Sophie's World - to read but I'd started it while sitting in the sun earlier and it's not the sort of book for reading in the sunshine so I went along, just in case something caught my eye. Which it did.
I say caught my eye but actually I asked the librarian if they had it: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. It turned out they did have a copy in their queue-jumping section (you can only keep the book for a week), so I grabbed it and, as I was there, I took Cottage by the Sea, the new one from Carol Matthews, whom I follow on Twitter so she feels like a friend, as well.
Plus another book about prostitutes in France by Rumer Godden. I've just read Thursday's Children, a children's book, by her and really enjoyed it. It's about a boy who wants to be a ballet dancer. A bit Billy Elliott but better. First published in 1984 the book has been republished this year, along with many more of Rumer Godden's books, as a Virago Modern Classic. If I enjoy this one I may work my way through her others. Isn't it wonderful when you discover a new - to you - author? When I first read Barbara Pym I was back and for to the library until I'd read all they had, and then was disappointed to realise she was dead and there'd be no more.
Following our library excursion we drove to Verdi's for ice cream. Well, the sun was shining. Apple crumble and praline pecan. Mmmmmmm.