Actually, I got these books for Christmas too, now I come to think about it – except “The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl”, the one on the top, which I bought myself. I’ve mentioned it before – it’s a touching and inspiring account written by a fellow blogger about how she got her life back from depression and overweight to happiness and fitness. What a girl. Her story is riveting and she also writes very well indeed. Including apostrophes. I do recommend it.
It’s sitting crookedly on the pile because it’s on top of Janet Street Porter’s horridly fascinating autobiography (part 2) which I dropped in the bath. This is not good for books but it doesn’t matter in this case. JSP is a journalist with a very good opinion of herself and if I saw her standing on a river bank with her back to me, I might well be tempted to give her a little shove. Only into a shallow river, you understand. Or a bath.
Of this second pile, I’ve so far read the Don Paterson, the Janet Street Porter and the Dietgirl. Now, however, I’ve abandoned the Mitfords temporarily for Sebastian Faulks’s “Engleby” (very good so far), which is our book group choice, and “Tess of the D’Urbervilles”, which I’m rereading so that I can pretend I know it awfully well for my (very intelligent) Advanced Higher students. A week or two ago, two of their essays on “The Return of the Native” made me doubt whether I could actually do any better myself. I didn’t tell them that, though. One has to maintain the illusion.
Girl in pyjamas with happy cat last night.