Little Things

I stumbled across this poem today on Justine Picardie's blog and completely fell in love with it. Doesn't it just make you smile? Wendy Cope, you are amazing!


The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.

by Wendy Cope.

Wilkie Collins

This blog has been pretty quiet of late, for which I apologise (I know that my, er...tens of...one...reader(s) have been finding life a struggle without it). I'm currently in the middle of wringing out of my brain in order to type out three months worth of research and supposedly original thought on 'The Woman in White' and 'The Moonstone', and it's proving to be both tiring and interesting. The research for my dissertation has been fascinating, but putting everything that I've learned into coherent sentences is a little more tricky. I've spent so much time in the library recently that I may as well move in and direct all future post there, and put up posters around the table that my friends and I have fiercely claimed as our own. Might bring in a potted plant tomorrow. And a kettle.

I had a glorious time visiting Agatha Christie's Devon holiday home, Greenway, over the Easter holidays. It was a beautiful day, and we caught the boat from Dartmouth to a little quay-side, where we walked up through woodland to reach her house. It's had a rather vigorous face-lift over the last couple of years, and in March it showed it's freshly scrubbed face to the world. It's lovely, as you can see from the photo I took at the top.

I'll write more about my visit when I'm not suffering from a post-Minstrels sugar come-down, and not in the library staring slightly hopelessly at a pile of books at half past six on a Saturday.