The weekend could be described as having been vaguely literary, but only just. The Resident IT Consultant’s clan gathered near Oxford, though some gathered rather more than others. The ‘foreigners’ made it from Heathrow to a service area near that illustrious town before staging a major public obstruction, worthy of the Sword in the Stone. They clogged up the service area for a couple of hours before staff called in Arthur, who otherwise works for the local police. I believe the problem lay with a hired car, which simply would not go anywhere. Luckily this branch of the clan are used to minor disasters, so it was laughed off.
Me, I would have had a nervous break-down.
Once the sword situation had been sorted, we all met in Philip Pullman’s village for a bit of sitting around with lovely Indian food in an English country garden. As you do. The Resident IT Consultant was physically destroyed with some frisbee stuff, while all Daughter remembers is actually seeing the house of Mr Pullman.
The witch found a photo of Philip hanging over her bed at the youth hostel that night (bet you didn’t know I still count as a ‘youth’), which may be why she took Daughter on a short walk round Jericho after breakfast. (Daughter is still not awake, or I could have furnished you with photos…) (Ah, now she is.)
Some of our doings over the weekend are more culture than books, so later on (much, much later, I suspect) there will be more tales over on Culture.