Bits and Pieces

I've been colder than a well-digger's boot today. There's something about the construction of my house that, when it's quite cold and the wind blows, it matters not where I set the thermostat; I'm simply not going to feel warm.

I remedied the situation somewhat by cooking up a big pot of hamburger/veggie soup with plenty of hot chili flakes as part of the seasoning. That, and several pieces of hot cornbread, baked in my heaviest iron skillet, at least warmed my innards. My nose and toes are still chilly, but my core temperature has risen by a degree or two, I'm sure.

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I recently finished reading a book.  A book-book.  Big deal, you say?  Since acquiring my Kindle, which I have kept loaded with freebie reading material from Amazon, I haven't had many book-books in my hands.  I had almost forgotten how heavy a book can be (not necessarily a good thing for arthritic wrists and hands), or how enjoyable it is to feel ink-on-paper under your hands (a good thing).  

This particular book was P.D. James' The Private Patient (Faber and Faber Limited, 2008), loaned to me just after Christmas by a friend. I've always found P.D. James' mystery novels very interesting. She really knows how to spin a tale, and how to captivate the reader with her opening words. As example:

" On November the 21st, the day of her forty-seventh birthday, and three weeks and two days before she was murdered, Rhoda Gradwyn went to Harley Street to keep a first appointment with her plastic surgeon, and there in a consulting room designed, so it appeared, to inspire confidence and allay apprehension, made the decision which would lead inexorably to her death."

I'm a big fan of British mystery novels, anyway, and Baroness James has a way with words that is vocabulary-expanding, to say the least.  I take perverse pleasure in having to occasionally resort to a dictionary to get a full understanding of her descriptive language. 

Baroness James  (more information here) is now 93 years old.  I hope she lives for many more years, but time is not on her side.  I always grieve the passing of authors whose work I enjoy; I think they should all live longer than I do, and continue to be published until my dying breath.  It that too much to ask? 

That's all the bits and pieces for now.  

Tomorrow is also a day.