When Sweden enjoys a national holiday, and I dream of green cake.
The Resident IT Consultant gave me a crime subscription, starting with a novel where the female character discovers she’s married to a murderer. Which is absolutely nothing to worry about. (It’s the British Library’s Crime Classics collection, as introduced by Martin Edwards.)
So, that was book one at breakfast. The second book turned up just after lunch, and I did wonder how fast they thought I could read.
In between those two books, he delivered me to the Book Nook for elevenses with some of the authors from the other week, making good on our promise to meet up soon again. No green cake, but a rather acceptable cupcake. And then there might just have been another one. Twenty purple tulips, a Moomin badge and an emergency birthday card, followed by much chat.
Like is it all right to have ketchup with your food, even in fancy restaurants? (Yes, it is.) Should one like Earl Grey tea, and from what age, and does it taste of soap? (Yes, earlier than that, and no.) School buses. The awfulness of. And is it therefore OK to drive the worried to school? (Yes, it is.)
When the Resident IT Consultant had walked enough, I gathered up my tulips, hugged and left.
After an interval, there were Offspring and Dodo. More tulips. After some Earl Grey – yes, indeed – with a slice of [brown] ginger loaf, we went back to the same street as in the morning, where a few doors down we gorged on Indian starters. When we were full, but not too full, we squeezed down some sweets as well. And tea, but the masala kind. No soapy Earl Grey.
I’m a purist who feels birthdays should be full of cake and stuff at home, but I have to say that this eating out, and more than once, is winning me over.
The first book is waiting. Except the Resident IT Consultant is taking me somewhere…
The Occasional Bookwitch 