handbags n books

i have bought my first handbag and it's simply fabulous, dahling. It's kind of purply, greyish, furry, leathery, umm baggy. I can fit in my phone, my glasses, my mp3 player, an apple, two books, my gloves and a hairclip. It doubles as an assualt weapon. Using it, I alternatively appear prissy and/or insouciant. I like to gaze at it lovingly and I imagine people are eyeing it enviously on the street (or there's an outbreak of glaucoma in Dublin)

Finally managed to finish the travesty of a book, after a long, long shower I felt clean enough to go on. I've just finished reading a memoir by Christabel Bielenberg, and with a name like Christabel you just know she's Anglo Irish, with some very peculiar ideas as to what it means to be Irish. The book is called The Past is Myself. The title itself deserves some attention, I quite like it, it reminds me of 'made for tv' movie titles. A game we use to play would involve reading out the synpopsis of a tv movie and then trying to guess its title. So a movie about say single motherhood could concievably be called 'A Leaf on the Wind', a movie about battling illness could be called 'A Hearts Dream', a movie where your husband turns out to be a raging psycho intent on killing you and your little doggie too could be 'The Future's Tomorrow'.
Anyhew, where was I, ah yes, The Past is Myself, well all sniping aside, I really liked this book. The author married a german man in 1933 and was living in Germany during the rise of National Socialism and during the war. It was pretty interesting, as most history books I tend to get my hands on would focus on the allies and their war experience and so a book about the experience of pretty ordinary people from the other side of the line was appreciated. She's quite funny and her background tells through her prose, slightly eccentric and completely sure of herself but generally charming!
Next up, I just bought another memoir type of book, Semi-Detached by Griff Rhys Jones. I expect it will be a good train companion. I've also got the The Tainted Relic (cue ominous drum roll) by various in me bag, not bad but it t'aint shakin' spearin'

gaah, blithering gaah.

which is better

"the bleached bones of the dead, scattered in small white patches among the darkened rocks gave mute testimony to their unavoidable presence."
or
"the bones of the dead, scattered in patches among the rocks gave testimony to their presence"

or better yet, neither.
This book is driving me demented. I shoud just stop reading it but perversely I'm dug in. Every sentence causes me to wince.
What has the English language ever done to deserve this?

so it's warm then?

description of the weather in a Terry Brooks novel (condensed)
'it was bitterly cold that day, so cold the wind grappled with the companions cloaks like a dead man fingers entwined in the weeds at the bottom of a frigid lake, it was very cold, the wind howled and moaned and there was mist dank, soulless mist, which was also cold. It was so cold in fact the warmth of the sun could not break through the ice laden clouds,which hung heavily over the barren horizon. It was very, very cold. The frozen landscape only served to enhance the coldness, which wrapped it icy grip around the cold companions......who shivered..........cos it was cold.
Did I mentioned how cold it was?'




One more book for the recommendations 'The English Harem' by Anthony McCarten. V.entertaining. If I were to compare it to a television show it would be Eastenders crossed with Upstairs, Downstairs and liberally sprinkled with Desperate Housewives.
sort of

whitewashing dublin

Its snowing! Lovely big chunky flakes of snow. Pity the ground is wet otherwise Dublin might have actually looked kinda nice.
When I was leaving the house for work yesterday the street outside had a thin layer of snow. It made the place look like something off a victorian christmas card. I took photos and will eventually upload them, along with pics of the Cliffs of Moher (aka Cliffs of Insanity).

unholy shows

This was part of an email I got from my younger brother...when I stopped laughing I posted it here. Childhood torments about to rectified.


(Older brother) came back from skiing last night! Sounded like he a right olde
time. First day he went to the highest peak and the only way down was
by skiing (he hasn't been on a set of ski's since 1998. Anyway, lets just
say 'he was not gracefull' and I think he lost his ski's at some stage
as he careered down the mountain on his face. Supposedly he only
stopped because his clothes filled up with snow which thankfully stopped
him....................not before he had gone screaming by some
restaurant full with people staring in horror at the spectacle of him on
his head. Glad he didn't show us up, hey?

New author

Ah Bliss, I have found a new author, Kate Atkinson, so far i'm on my third book by this author, the latest one I'm reading is called 'Behind the Scenes at the Museum', first published in 1995. This is after reading 'Case Histories' and 'One Good Turn', books that can be loosely termed detective novels, there is a slight Agatha Christie/Enid Blyton - squeezed into the twenty first century, sized 00, labelling mania - feel to them, most importantly - they are deftly layered stories, funny, warm, engaging.
Plus I love the covers.
In other news, got the train back up to Dublin this morning and attempted to snooze the two hour journey away. Was interrupted numerous times by ticket inspectors (thankfully the nice, lacksidasical - is this a word- Irish kind, unlike the shouting, gung ho, doc marten wearing kind found in Germany - bloody terrifying, I never found a ticket so fast, good cure for constipation though). Also woman on train with phone- U could have turned it down, would it have been so bloody difficult.
There's a word for people like her,
victims

no mobile phone users were harmed in the creation of this entry.