It was almost an orange Wednesday for the Resident IT Consultant and me, but when we weighed in the half term factor and the anonymous text message asking if ‘he could come Wednesday at one’ we decided against James Bond this week. There will, hopefully, be more Wednesdays. And once he knew who wanted him at one, he went.
There’s not even a pumpkin for Halloween, however. Just a container of sweets, past their date. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I used to faithfully get the Resident IT Consultant to wield a knife on some innocent pumpkin towards the end of October every year, but by 2011 I couldn’t see the point, and in 2012 I found to my surprise that the greengrocer went out of business while I was away for a few days.
No pumpkin at all. We do have some clementines and a few oranges. They are orange.
So are the books I’ve been reading lately. It’s as if certain things just gang up on me. In this case, orange books. My current read is both Halloween-coloured and written by a pseudonym. The Tobermory Cat is orange, and he has featured a lot recently.
The Sultan’s Tigers is an orangey sort of book. It also contains other coincidences, which I couldn’t help noticing as I read through my pile of travel entertainment last week, while the greengrocer disappeared.
The tiger book features two characters by the name of Trelawney. There was a Trelawney in Lady Catherine’s Necklace, which I read just before it. A helicopter landing pad on top of a tall building (Tiger book, not the Austen sequel) neatly mirrored the helipad in Angel Fire. Tiger is set in India, and after it, I just happened to move on to another book set in India.
Sometimes I pick books like that, according to a pattern. What is fascinating (what do you mean it isn’t?) is when several books in a row manage a pattern of their own.
Tigers are cats. Orange cats.
Perhaps a red read next?
“What is fascinating (what do you mean it isn’t?) is when several books in a row manage a pattern of their own.”
More than once I’ve heard a phrase or a word I’ve never heard before, only to find I hear it twice more in different contexts over the next week. It seems very spooky at the time…
As a child I heard Lucille Ball quote ‘four score and seven years ago’ on her show (you’ll be too young to know what I’m talking about) and within days (weeks?) I came across it in a film and somewhere else, too. Even without google I was able to work out, eventually, what it was a quote from.
It’s different for Americans. Even for other English speakers. To me it was weird, and to this day I think of Lucille Ball rather than Lincoln.