Books

I hate finishing books . It was hard to get started with Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans though I had loved her Short history of tractors in the Ukraine , and in fact it took me two attempts in between which I switched to something else , the name and details of which escape me it being at least two weeks ago . Something by Nina Bawden I think , who writes brilliantly and whose husband was killed in a train crash not long ago . Again I should know where that took place , but again , Ive forgotten . Paddington maybe . I remember at the time being shocked that bad things happen unexpectedly and just as tragically to well known people too . I digress. I hate it when books end . Having found Two Caravans hard going for about five minutes ( when I tried starting at around midnight probably at the end of a Day Job day ) , I then re tried soon after and found it incredibly poignant , tragic and very very funny all at once . Its definitely not a good idea though if you want to continue eating chickens and conversely could be very useful indeed of you are contemplating the vegetarian lifetstyle.
I see the last few pages approaching and feel myself slowing down . It makes the long nights bearable if I know there are people there by the side of the bed whose lives I am part of in some small measure , to share them with . A friend of mine , who clearly hit the insomnia thing before I did , talked once of treasuring the extra time for reading and I am eternally grateful to her ( thanks Barbara , though I expect she will have forgotten she said it by now ) for providing this take on something which I know many people find troubling , exhausting and indeed a source of anxiety all of its own .
A point is reached as the little pile of pages decreases when it becomes inevitable and my only way to cope is to start foraging for new material , either re reading something old ( with my memory this can be very rewarding ) , ordering something from e bay or Barter Books .
So now that Two Caravnans is done , its over to Fay Weldon .( She may not leave )

The day job

So tricky to do anything at the end of a day job .Today it even starts differently . The alarm goes off and wakes me with a jump at 6 45 , which is odd as for months now I have not slept well and become accustomed to waking several times , reading to send me back to sleep at four am , five am , and sometimes 6 . But in the last few nights Ive been sleeping heavily and waking at alarm time feeling confused and unclear about whether getting out of bed is such a good idea . Usually I'm raring to go ( admittedly often due to boredom and that " might as well get on with the day " feeling when sleep is elusive .I try to post two photos from yesterday and though the blog reports success the blogs fail to appear ( though I manage to get them in the right place later ) .I sit in a long traffic queue and ponder the week ahead .What seems like minutes later in time , but years in how I feel , I'm in the same traffic queue but reverse direction . There has to be more to life than this , arriving home knowing there are more reports to read . Roll on Wednesday evening !I want to be CatCalling , writing about things , out on my bike , not staring into space drained of energy .And shar pei s look like nice little wrinkly dogs .... any advice ?

The walls of keys , yesterday, Belsay Hall

Each of the keys has a separate brown label with script in copperplate describing which room or area the key relates to . The labels themselves are fasinating , the topiary garden , the women's room , the loud room , the dirt room , the boot room and the coffin room ( the coffin room ? How many houses have a separate room for coffins ?)

Making beds

Toby in a pile of bedlinen as the beds are changed .