Monday, August 1, 2011
Sunday on a Patio...and Books!
BMV Books has no catalogue system whatsoever so there's no quick and easy way to find out if something is in stock. There's nothing for it but to load up the parking meter and browse until your time is up. The literature section flips over quickly with stacks of green book bins full of fresh stock to fill gaps once a space is made so each visit is like scanning the shelves for the first time.
My heart leapt at finding the orange Penguin edition of Little Boy Lost on a bottom shelf looking out of place amongst more recent publications. I loved the Persephone Classic version but have coveted this edition for ages. The Lehmann short stories are described as 'set against the background of Britain at war: the world of women and children, the minutiae of daily life in rural England...' Perfect. The Wilkie Collins was just because and my inner 'downstairs girl' simply could not resist another book on English domesticity. Reading snippets about the etiquette of entertaining guests for dinner, dealing with infant teething (they lanced their gums!), how maids should mend linens on their day off and the most humane way to slaughter a pig made the drive home seem a lot quicker. The seemingly endless paragraphs of rigid rules and guidelines had R saying he would rather have been the type to hang out at the docks wheeling and dealing for a living.
I probably should have spent my time reading the book on my nightstand instead of buying more but it was a fun afternoon out. You can't go back to work after a long weekend saying you hung around the house now can you? We've also seen the last installment in the Harry Potter series with our group of friends. Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith, I love you. And this weekend was the annual Steak-Off BBQ. R won it last year but this year barely managed to stay out of the basement. He went with an untested recipe which was a bit banal for his liking once he tried it at the event. So what's a fellow to do at that point? He starts rooting through the host's spice cupboard, finds a jar of steak spice and begins shaking it over the steaks like a madman with a set of maracas in a mariachi band. It actually wasn't bad at all but the competition was quite exemplary this year so better luck, and practice, next time.
So today I am a golf widow and perfectly happy with plans to use my day off to get some housework and laundry done. Mrs Beeton would be so pleased.