October books

 The October local book group choice was the autobiography, 'Invisible Walls' by the former Guardian journalist Hella Pick. I read it on Kindle and it never aids my appreciation of a book. Hella came to Britain as a kinder transport child. Many of the events that she writes about and places that she visited are familiar to me. On occasion I felt as though she were following me about. "We were there that year!" "We've eaten there", "I remember that!" Although it was interesting there was a great deal of name dropping throughout the book which did not endear me to her and I felt some slippage  between how she intended to portray herself and my perception of her. I think a far more interesting book would be one written about her by somebody else!

Slim pickings at the traveling library. I chose another large print Agatha Christie novel but have now decided that is enough. I'm discouraged by the fact that the culprits can never be discovered because her endings are so sneaky. (Or is it that I'm just no good at detective work?!)

I realized half way through the book that I had seen this story on t.v. where there was the added advantage of looking at some pretty frocks!

 

 

This book was inspired by an actual event, the unexplained disappearance of keepers from their lighthouse. It was interesting enough but has not left a lasting impression, I have only a foggy recollection of the story line.

In Yorkshire.

The weather was fine the last time we were in Yorkshire and I ambled about our usual walks with my camera in hand. The pleasure of returning to this much-loved part of the world is that it has changed so little. It was once a very workaday place with little passing traffic and sheep and cattle were herded casually up and down the road. These days grass verges are carefully maintained and woe betide any animal that stamps it's hooves on the turf!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then

 

 

 

and now.

 

There are a number of fine old houses in the village.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our bolt hole was formerly the stable and hen house attached to my parents' home, so it has obviously changed quite a bit!

 

 Former hen house

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and stable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flowers from the garden from our neighbour, Lorraine. She and her family live in my parents' former home. We went there for supper. Two big pies sitting on top of the Aga. They looked (and tasted) wonderful - why hadn't I taken my camera! After we had eaten we sat around the kitchen table and played games. It has always been a happy house.

The Dales book club met while I was home and we discussed 'Precious Bane' by Mary Webb at the village pub, most of us staying on after the discussion for a soup lunch . All that I knew of the author was that she was one of several writers who had been spoofed in Stella Gibbons, 'Cold Comfort Farm.' The story was hard to get into. The day before the meeting it rained solidly, the only poor day of our entire stay. It meant that I could sit by the fire and read the book from start to finish. had I been picking it up and putting it down I might never have got to the end. A mixed response from me and also from other members of the group. It read like a second-rate Thomas Hardy, with a self-indulgent ending and some sloppy characterisation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wasn't in Yorkshire when the book club discussed this choice, another title very familiar to me but that I had never read, Eric Newby's, 'A Short Walk in the Hindu Cush.' This I thoroughly enjoyed. Oh, the amazing incompetence  of Eric and Hugh! Fancy setting out on an expedition like this in new Italian boots. Newby's writing style is light and easy and his descriptive passages are beautiful. I had thought this expedition to have taken place at a much earlier period than the '50's. I think that at that time I had a better knowledge of walking than these two  and certainly had enough common sense to break in a new pair of walking boots before going on a major outing in them.

It was very much a boys' outing, Newby having left his wife and children at home.