I am rushing about like a mad thing today so all I can give you is this, which Callan told me many years ago and which, for some reason, I have recently remembered, and recounted to a number of people. So, to give you a bit of a giggle in the depths of revision-based despair, read this, preferably aloud, for best effect:
There was a young lady from Bude,
Who went for a swim in a lake.
A man in a punt
stuck his pole in her ear,
and said, ‘you can’t swim here, it’s private’.
I am truly incredibly cultured. Wonderful. On the other hand I am reading The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver, at the moment. So I’m sort of doing OK, right?! And then, next, finally, I will make it onto Chekhov, who has been hanging about waiting to be read since Christmas. Sorry, dear…!