Month: March 2016

Top Ten Tuesday: 5-star Reads, or Gin & Tears

I’m quite generous with my 4-star ratings, but 5-stars is harder for me. I have a shelf on goodreads labeled ‘ten stars’ and another one called ‘there were tears’ and those ones are the ones that I’ll throw at people, so we can talk about it. ‘There will be a test,’ I tell them. Recent 10-stars have been: Dept. of Speculation – Heard a bunch about this, and bought it while in NY.  Maybe that’s why it’s a tenner.  But really, pure poetry.  Found myself reading bits aloud to Neil and then threw it at him.  He hasn’t read it, yet.  But I haven’t finished Stone Junction, so we’re even. The Last Summer of the Camperdowns – This book found me on the NY trip, too.  I loved it so much.  My gin-soaked prose shelf on goodreads was invented for this book.  I read a lot of mysteries and thrillers that don’t really move me, but this one quietly creeped me out more than any of them.  Families will do that to you. The Interestings – I wanted to go to that camp.  I did for a while.  I lived with this book for as long as I read it, same feeling for me as May We Be Forgiven, also ten stars.  I have yet to experience a book like those two, since I read those two. Now. Here are...

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Isla's Mural

My best friend from Uni has been staying with us for the week.  She thinks she’s a physiotherapist, but she’s actually an artist. This mural appeared on Isla’s wall in two and a half days.  Acrylic, emulsion, and magic. And Isla loves it.  Of course. Emma doesn’t have a website yet.  But I’ve decided she totally should.  So that’s pending. Isla says thank you, Auntie...

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The Frosty North

Since we moved in we’ve had a gas leak, the washing machine won’t drain, the toaster blew a fuse.  And today, the boiler has packed in. But it’s still our house.  And apparently, it’s well, sensitive.  So.  Leave it alone.  Unless you’d like to come and fix the heat. Actually, the same guy who fixed our farting stove two weeks ago is making another trip to fix the heat.  Don’t worry, he knows where we live. In other news, we are online.  And we have cable TV.  And in a fit of DIY, my husband put our spare TV on our bedroom wall.  I know, I’m embarrassed enough for the both of us. And I’m sitting here at the kitchen table.  We have one of those, too.  In related news, the new word for ‘distressed’ is ‘reclaimed’.  Furniture is now politically correct. Neil and I spent Valentines weekend picking out and ordering our new socially-acceptable furniture.  Because we are middle-aged romantic like that. In related news, before we braved the shops, I said if we came home with one of those entertainment centre thingies, we’ll have crossed a line from which there’s no return. But we were safe.  Every bleary-eyed but somehow super-charged salesperson said, ‘they don’t make those any more.’ The thing was this.  Every shiny, pointy bit of bark that passed for a ‘TV table’ was the...

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